


Blue Skies Up Ahead (The Sweetest Thing)

by Tito11



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Skinny!Steve, Work In Progress, transgender character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tito11/pseuds/Tito11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shy Stella Rogers has somehow attracted the attention of notorious playboy Tony Stark. To her amazement, she finds Tony is nothing like the rumors would have her believe. He's crass, sure, and a jerk at times, but he's also sweet and loving and everything Stella ever wanted in a man. But there's something that could ruin her new-found relationship, because Stella has a secret. And it's in her pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write mpreg, I sat down and really tried, but instead I wrote 10k of this instead. I'm estimating it's going to be about 15k in total, so not too bad, and after that I'll try for more mpreg again. 
> 
> So, as a note about this fic, it's about a transgender character. I don't actually know anyone who's transgender, so if I got anything really wrong or offensive, just let me know and I'll see what I can do. The character in question here thinks certain things about herself that could be seen as offensive, certainly, but my hope is that by the end of the story she'll make some progress toward a better self-esteem and stuff. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I mention abortion again and not in a favorable light. It's one line, no big deal in my opinion, but I thought I'd warn for it just in case.

Stella hums to herself as she picks out an outfit for work. She’s had a song stuck in her head all morning, something catchy she’d heard on pop radio when she was curling her hair after her shower earlier. She’s not sure what it’s called or even most of the lyrics, but the tune had been catchy. The chorus had been something about new shoes, she’s pretty sure, but she honestly just doesn’t know. 

The blue shirt would look nice, she thinks, reaching for it. It would go pretty nicely with the black and white striped flouncy skirt, with maybe the brown belt to tie it all together. And the white heels with the straps, of course. After she’s decided, it doesn’t take her long to dress, certainly not as long as it takes her to put on her make-up. When she’s dressed, she stands in front of the mirror and admires how she looks. She doesn’t like to think of herself as vain, but it’s not a sin to want to look her best and she can’t deny the warm feeling she gets when she can look in the mirror and admire what she sees. It’s not that she can’t do that wearing just her pajamas or even nothing at all, but the clothes make the woman, as they say.

She heads out into the living room and checks the clock on the wall. She’s got five minutes before she needs to leave, which is just enough time to check the news. Her old laptop takes ages to boot up, but once it’s on she checks out the day’s headlines. There’s nothing much, no breaking news or anything, just a few accidents that made national news. There are a few articles about continuing uprisings in the Middle East, which Stella glosses over – she does care, honest, but it bothers her that she can’t do anything to help those people, so it’s best not to even read about it. If she was in a different place in her life, maybe she could do more than donate to whatever charities she can afford, but she’s not and she can’t, and that’s just how it is. She accepted a long time ago that she has to pick her battles, and that means dealing with the demons she sees every day and saving everything else for later.

Apart from that, there are reports about items in front of Congress and the Supreme Court, and a few puff pieces, of course, intruding into the lives of celebrities: Kanye West talks about his daughter, Lisa Kudrow got a nose job, Tony Stark’s dating another gorgeous model and insulting the press while he’s at it. It’s nothing special and Stella honestly doesn’t care about any of those things. She glosses over the sports section, too, not taking any special notice since she only really follows baseball and her team wasn’t playing last night. After a while, she glances at the time, curses lightly and closes the computer. She’s not late, but she certainly won’t be early, either. She grabs her purse, her school bag and her jacket and heads out into the hall.

It’s four floors down to the street, no elevator, and she waves to the man who runs the bodega on the ground floor. Mr. Phillips looks up from his till, gives her a solemn nod and glances away again quickly. Peggy used to have a theory about how Mr. Philips was always so gruff with them because his wife got jealous when he was nice to young women. Stella always used to laugh, but it’s possible she’s not that far off the mark. Of course, Mr. Philips would never be interested in Stella, not if he knew the truth, but Peggy never makes that distinction, despite the fact that they’ve known each other since high school. 

The thought makes Stella a bit sad and she tries not to think about it as she starts the two blocks to her subway station. It’s silly, she knows, but she can’t help but miss the woman. She understands Peggy’s reasons for moving back to England: a better a job and a chance to reconnect with her heritage. That doesn’t mean Stella doesn’t miss her, though. She might only be a phone call away, but it’s just not the same as when they used to live together. Now Stella’s apartment feels so empty. She’s been thinking about getting a dog to fill the void, but she really wants to make sure she’s certain about it before going to the pound or anything. Try as she might to be stern with pets, she can’t help but fall for a pair of puppy dog eyes every single time.

Stella reads on the train. She’s not ashamed to admit she’s a fan of the sleazy romance novels people look down on. She’s sure a lot of parents would be scandalized if they saw what she likes to read, but Stella’s not embarrassed to have people on the train see. The book she has now is particularly smutty, all about a knight’s ‘conquest’ of a pretty maiden. It’s a little bit silly and a little bit shameful, but Stella stopped caring what people thought a long time ago, had to or she would go crazy.

It’s three stops to the school where Stella works. It’s a drab building, and not in the best repair. It was repurposed from a penitentiary, she thinks, and you can tell from the design. It’s not an especially terrible neighborhood, but it’s still dangerous enough to have bars on the windows and metal detectors at the door. Thankfully, the security guards don’t have to do a cavity search, otherwise Stella would probably have a lot more problems with the staff, most of whom don’t know the truth about her. The school board knows, of course, but that’s it.

“Good morning, Stella,” Darcy from the front office calls as Stella picks up her mail.

“Hi, Darcy,” Stella says. “How was your date last night?” It’s a well-known fact that Darcy has her eyes set on being married within the next few years, but her dates have a habit of going terribly for various unforeseen reasons. She’s a sweet girl and if Stella were into that, she’d definitely make an offer, but as it is, they’re both after the same thing: a hot guy who wouldn’t be adverse to settling down. 

“Sucked balls,” Darcy says. Stella would say something about her phrasing, but school hasn’t started yet and little impressionable ears aren’t roaming the hallways this early. “The waiter spilled spaghetti sauce all down my dress and then my date had an allergic reaction to the water chestnuts in his pasta.”

“Is he alright?” Stella asks. “I didn’t know people could be allergic to water chestnuts.”

“Neither did he,” Darcy says gravely. “But yeah, he’s fine. I just don’t think he’s going to be asking for a second date, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry,” Stella says. 

“I’m not,” Darcy replies easily. “He was kind of prissy, to be honest.”

“So who’s next?” Stella asks. “Does your dating website just keep giving you candidates or what?”

“Screw the website,” Darcy says, waving her hand as if to brush the whole thing away. “I’m done with this internet dating bullshit. It’s back to the club or nothing at all. Actually, I was thinking of going out tonight. You want to come?” 

“It’s a school night,” Stella protests.

“So?” Darcy says, giving Stella the look that means she’s being lame again. “It’s not like you drink, anyway. Just come out with us for a few hours and you can be our DD.”

“I’ll think about it,” Stella says. She checks the time on her phone. “I’ve got to get going, get ready for the kids, but I’ll let you know at lunch, okay?”

“Sure thing, sistah,” Darcy says, already going back to her rousing game of solitaire. 

Stella shakes her head fondly and makes for her classroom. 

 

Stella’s kids are the absolute best part about her day. It’s possible that she has some sort of baby envy and it’s true that she absolutely feels jealous about all those women out there who can actually have kids. Hearing about abortions makes her angry for that very reason, because what right to all those silly girls out there have to take something like the ability to get pregnant for granted? It’s not that Stella thinks she’d love an adopted baby any less, but the thought of one growing inside her, well, she’ll admit the idea makes her swoon. Since that can’t happen, though, and since she refuses to adopt a baby without a man to be an equal partner and help her raise it, she takes what she can get in her students.

“Miss Stella, Miss Stella!” Little Hank Pym says, running up to her desk. 

“Walk, Hank,” she reminds him and he slows his pace to something more acceptable for the classroom.

“I got you an apple!” he says proudly, holding it up for her to inspect.

“Wow!” she says, gently lifting the fruit from his hand and holding it up to the light. “It’s gorgeous! Thank you, Hank.”

“My mom let me pick it out at the store,” Hank explains. “I picked red because I know red is your favorite color.”

“You’re right,” she says, setting the apple on her desk and smiling at him. “Red is my favorite. I’ll be sure to take this with me when I go to lunch. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Stella,” Hank says, blushing. 

“Hank!” Janet Van Dyne yells from across the room where she’s sitting Indian style on the alphabet mat. “Come play blocks with me!”

“Inside voice, Jan,” Stella calls to her. More softly, she adds to Hank, “You’d better go. You’ve only got six more minutes before class starts.”

“Right,” he says, looking up at the clock. They’re learning to tell time in math class and Hank is one of her quicker students, so she’d bet dollars to donuts that he can tell from himself how much time is left. “Bye, Miss Stella.”

“Bye, Hank,” Stella says, smiling behind her hand. Kids are precious sometimes.

True to her word, Stella gives the kids six more minutes to play while she gathers her lesson materials, then she calls the class to order. “Okay, everyone,” she says over the noise. “Let’s put our toys away now and take our seats.” It takes a few minutes, but they know the price of dawdling purposefully in her class is loss of recess time, so they all hurry to comply. When everyone is in their seats, Stella gives them her best smile. 

“Good morning, class!” she says cheerfully.

“Good morning, Miss Stella,” they all chorus more or less together.

“Let’s go over the schedule for the day, alright?” Stella grabs her pointer stick and uses it to point to the Schedule Board at the front of the room, the Velcro one that lets her to rearrange the classes of the day however she needs to by simply unsticking their place cards and sticking them back onto the board in a different order. “Today is Wednesday,” she says, pointing with her stick at the words ‘Wednesday’ before moving down the class list under it. “That means we have Social Studies first, then Language Arts, then Gym class with Miss Carol. After that we’ve got lunch, followed by Story Time, then Math, then Recess, and when we come back in from that, we’ll have Independent Reading until the bell rings.”

“So,” she continues, putting down her pointer stick and clapping her hands together. “Let’s get started with Social Studies. Yesterday during Reading, we read a book about families. Does anyone remember what types of families we talked about?”

A dozen little hands go into the air and Stella points to one in the front row. “How about you, Jean, what do you remember?”

“Some families have a mommy, a daddy and kids.”

“That’s right,” Stella says. “Lots of families have two parents. Not all of them, though. Does anyone else know a type of family? How about you, Reed?”

“Some families only have a mommy or a daddy, or neither.”

Stella smiles at him sweetly, knows he’s thinking of his friend Sue’s family. “Good,” she says. “That’s right. Some families don’t have parents at all. Some children are raised by grandparents or aunts and uncles. Anyone else? Go ahead, Ben.”

“Not all families are the same size,” Ben says, repeating almost word for word a page of the story they read yesterday.

“That’s true,” Stella says. “There could be lots of children or only a few. It could be just parents and their children living together, or it could be aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas and cousins. And pets, of course, let’s not forget those.”

A few of the kids giggle and Stella decides that’s enough discussion. 

“Okay,” she says. “I want you all to keep those families in mind. Every family is different and that’s what makes them special. Now then, who wants to be my helper today?”

Every hand in the room goes up again and a few kids even get over-excited and bounce in their seats. Stella specifically ignores the hands of children who are saying, “Me, me!” and looks to the quiet ones. “Hank, how about you?”

Hank blushes, but obediently comes up to stand beside her. She hands him the white paper she got out earlier and instructs him to give one to every person. Meanwhile, Stella passes out the boxes of crayons. There aren’t enough of those, so they’ll have to share, but sharing is an important lesson, anyway. Once the supplies are distributed, Stella goes back to the front of the room and motions to Hank that he can take his seat again.

“Alright,” Stella tells the class. “What we’re doing today is drawing our families. Make them as creative as you like, but I want to see what family means to you in these drawings. Once they’re all finished, we’re going to hang them on the bulletin board. If anyone needs help, just raise your hand.”

The kids set to work right away, all eager to make their pictures the best. Stella keeps an ear open for squabbles over crayons or anything like that while she sets up the bulletin board in the back of the room. She lets the wavy purple boarder stay, but she carefully takes down the drawings from two weeks ago, the ones of the weather. She takes down the cutout raindrops and snowflakes, too, and carefully puts everything aside to sort later. The pictures she’ll put in the kids’ folders to send home for kids to show their parents at the end of the grading period, and the cutouts she can save for next year. She’s got new cutouts, now, words that spell out, “Families Are Different.” She’s got little cutouts of trees, too, to put around the kids’ drawings. They’re ‘family trees’ of course, though she doubts any of the little ones will see the humor.

After the board is set up, she makes her rounds, checking up on the kids, seeing how far they’ve gotten. Most of them aren’t even close to done, limited as they are with their undeveloped fine motor skills, so Stella decides to give them a bit more time. On a whim, she grabs a piece of paper and a few crayons and goes back to her desk to draw her own family picture. Since the real thing is too depressing, just her, after all, she uses a bit of imagination. Stella was an artist in a past life, but crayons aren’t exactly her medium. She does her best, though, draws herself as a little cartoon figure holding hands with another figure, a man. She draws a child, too, though she leaves the sex ambiguous. She even adds a dog, just because she can. Then she decorates the white space, putting in a sun and a rainbow and a few flowers, too.

When she’s finished, she looks at the drawing and feels sad, despite herself. It’s not that she feels useless or incomplete without a man by her side, but she’ll admit she wants one badly. It’s impossible, though. No matter how cute Stella looks or sweet she acts, she’s never going to find a man who is okay with what she is, with who she is. That’s just the reality of it, and Stella accepted it years ago.

Sighing, she puts down her picture and goes to check on the kids.

 

Stella does end up going out with Darcy that night. She doesn’t drink, but she figures it’s a good idea to have someone sober along on this trip to watch everyone else and make sure they don’t do anything stupid. The line-up consists of the usual suspects: Darcy, of course, Jane from Fifth Grade, Carol the gym teacher, and Jessica from Fourth. And Stella herself, of course, but she doesn’t really consider herself to be “one of the girls,” since she doesn’t drink and she doesn’t dance. That doesn’t mean she can’t have fun, though. She genuinely enjoys sitting with the gals in a corner booth, chatting and bobbing her head to the music. Watching them on the dance floor is a blast, too. 

Being the only sober person in the club does have its drawbacks, though. It makes getting to the bathroom a real hassle, for one. 

“Oh, excuse me,” she says, trying to force her way through the crowd. She hasn’t been embarrassed about her height since puberty, but being 5’3” does make it rather difficult at times, especially when she’s trying to physically force her way through something. She’d like to think she’s got more self-preservation instinct than to just shove her way through a crowd of rambunctious drunk people, but her history of getting into scraps as a teenager says that’s not quite true. 

She does make it to the bathroom eventually with only a slightly bruised side to show for her struggles. There’s a line, of course, there always is in the ladies’ room, but that’s the price girls pay, she supposes, for having nicer bathrooms than guys. She doesn’t often long for the days when going to the bathroom was less hassle, but sometimes it sneaks up on her out of the blue, especially in situations like these. 

By the time Stella finally gets to pee and washes her hands, she’s been away from her table for over twenty minutes. The gang she’s with are all big girls, she knows, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying that one of them might have done something drunk and stupid while she wasn’t there to keep an eye on them. It’s an overprotective instinct born of teaching first graders, she supposes, but she still hurries back to the table as quickly as she can.

Too quickly, as it turns out, because she’s barely rounded the corner of the hallway between the bathrooms and the bar when she runs smack into someone and gets knocked over onto her butt.

“Hey, watch it,” the guy snaps, stumbling back, clearly angry though he’s not the one on the ground. 

“Sorry,” Stella says, because it’s either that or start a fight and while she’d never shy away from standing up for herself, she doesn’t want to ruin her friends’ night by getting kicked out of the club. She just knows they’d all leave with her and she doesn’t want that.

The man looks down at her, takes in her sprawled form and sighs audibly. “Here,” he says, extending his hand down to help her up. Stella takes it, because heels are tricky to get up in sometimes. “Look, I’m sorry,” the man continues. “Rough night, you know?” 

“Not really,” Stella says, getting steady on her feet again. She turns to go, completely willing to leave it at that, but he grabs her arm and turns her back around forcibly. 

“Hey, wait!” he says quickly. “Let me buy you a drink, huh? To make up for knocking you over.”

“That’s okay,” Stella says, wrenching her arm free from his grasp.

“No, seriously,” the man insists. “It was an accident. Let me make it up to you.”

“I said no,” Stella says firmly. “Let it go.”

“Fine,” the guy says, taking a step back and holding up his hands in surrender. “Don’t have to be a bitch about it.” He turns and walks away down the hall toward the bathrooms.

“Oh my God, Stella,” a voice says from behind her, and Stella turns to see Jane standing right behind her, staring after the man.

“What?” Stella asks, confused. “What are you looking at?”

“That guy was Tony Stark,” Jane says, clearly star struck. “You just turned down Tony Stark.”

“Huh,” Stella says, turning to look, but the guy has gone out of sight. “Well how about that.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Jane says, looking appalled. “You just turned down one of the richest, smartest men in the country and all you can say is, ‘How about that’? What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s just as well,” Stella says, shrugging. She wants a man, it’s true, but Tony Stark is an arrogant playboy jerk, everyone knows that. And besides, what would the richest, smartest man in the country want with Stella?

Jane shakes her head, speechless, but that’s the end of it thankfully. They go back to their table and where Stella sits and talks to Carol while Jane and Darcy dance for a while. Stella honestly forgets about the whole thing until later when they’re leaving the club.

“Hey, Stel,” Darcy says, swaying drunkenly. “I, uh, I did something.”

“What did you do?” Stella asks warily, reaching out to steady her friend. 

“Huh?” Darcy asks, fascinated suddenly with the way her nail polish reflects in the street light. 

“You said you did something,” Stella prompts. “What did you do?”

“Oh,” Darcy says, brightly, looking up and smiling. “I gave someone your number. He looked familiar, but I dunno where from. Wanted your number, though, so I gave it to him.”

“Did he have dark hair and a goatee?” Stella asks, suddenly fearful.

“Sure did,” Darcy reports, then doubles over cheerfully and pukes on her shoes.

Great, Stella thinks, just great.

It’s a thought that stays with her the rest of the night, all through seeing Jane and Carol to the right trains and making sure Darcy gets home in one piece. She doesn’t clean up Darcy’s shoes, lets that for the lady herself to deal with, but she does make her get undressed and drink lots of water before she goes to sleep. All told, it takes Stella over an hour and a half between leaving the club and getting home herself and by that time, she’s exhausted. 

She’s not too exhausted to be a little frisky, though. Against her better judgment, she focuses on Tony Stark as she gets undressed and lies down in bed. She’s not sure what the man wants from her, if it’s all some kind of joke or what, but she is sure from her brief encounter and the tabloids she’s seen in passing that however much of a jerk he is, he’s an undeniably attractive man. 

It always feels a bit shameful, reaching for one of the toys she keeps in her nightstand. She does it, though, because it’s been that kind of night and she needs the release. She doesn’t use it right away, but sets it aside. She gets some lube in one hand and reaches down to touch herself. Her cock’s hard, of course, the traitor, and she strokes herself slowly for a few minutes, letting the steady rhythm relax her. When she’s calm enough and ready for it, she pulls her knees up, plants her feet flat on the bed and lets her other hand sneak down between her cheeks. She uses two fingers to circle her asshole, lets one dip inside, pushes it up to the first knuckle then pulls it back out. More lube and she gets the whole finger in, works it in and out and around until she’s loose enough for two. She doesn’t play, just scissors her fingers, stretches herself open until she can take the toy. 

It takes coordination to slowly work the vibrator in without losing her rhythm on her dick, but Stella’s got years of practice by this point. The toy isn’t that big, but it always feels huge inside her, incredible even before she turns on the vibrations. She gets a good rhythm for both at once, sloppy but wonderful, then she holds her breath and turns the toy on. She squirms for it, loves it, and she can hear herself moan like a whore. She comes in minutes.

Afterward, completely spent, she pulls the toy out carefully and put it onto her nightstand to clean tomorrow. She cleans herself off quickly with a shirt from the floor, then pulls the covers up and settles in. She sleeps and very firmly does not dream of billionaires coming in and sweeping her off her feet. Dreams like that, they don’t come true, not for normal people and certainly not for girls like Stella.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now proofread and also edited a little bit, because after rereading I realized the schedule I laid out here just didn't work out in the long term.

“How’s the head?” Stella asks Darcy the next morning. 

“Mmmph,” is all Darcy manages, but that might be because her face is mashed against her desk.

“I tried to get you to drink more water,” Stella says. Darcy brought this on herself and Stella doesn’t feel bad at all, especially not after what Darcy confessed to doing last night. “By the way, how are the shoes?”

“Ruined,” Darcy says, muffled. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Stella says, and okay, maybe she does feel a little bad after all. She does hate to see people in pain. “Do you, by chance, remember what you did last night?”

“You mean I ground up on perfect strangers and almost went home with a circus attraction?” Darcy asks ruefully. She sits up slightly and props her head up with her hand, elbow on the desk. “Because that shit happens every time.”

“Wait,” Stella says, momentarily distracted. “You almost went home with a circus attraction? I didn’t know there was one of those at the club last night.”

“Well, I mean, it could have just been a story to make him seem interesting. He was hot, though, or at least he was hot through my tequila goggles. Very muscly.”

“Your tequila goggles make you think that about everyone,” Stella says, exasperated and fond. “Don’t you remember when you tried to take Carol home because she looked muscly?”

“I thought we agreed never to talk about that again.” Darcy says sourly. 

“You’re the one that keeps bringing it up when you’re drunk,” Stella points out, then tries to bring the conversation back around to where she wants it. “And speaking of things you did when you’re drunk, do you remember what you did to me last night?”

“Oh God,” Darcy says unsteadily. “Did I try to fuck you, too? Shit, I’m sorry, Stella, I know you’ve got that wait-until-marriage bullshit going on. Tell me I didn’t get past first base, at least. I mean, even you can make out a bit, right?”

“Yes,” Stella says stiffly. “I can make out if I want. Staying a virgin until marriage does not mean I’m a prude. But that’s not what I was talking about. I meant, you gave some asshole my number.”

“Holy shit, Stel,” Darcy says, eyes lighting up. “It’s all coming back to me now. Of course I gave that guy your number. He really wanted it and he looked just like Tony Stark. I know you disapprove of the cult of the celebrity or whatever, but even you can have to see how awesome it would be to bang a Tony Stark lookalike.”

“He didn’t look like Tony Stark,” Stella tells her flatly. “He was Tony Stark.”

“No shit!” Darcy says excitedly. “Really?”

“Really,” Stella confirms. “And he called me a bitch.” And touched me without my permission, Stella adds mentally, but doesn’t say it out loud for fear of what Darcy will say. Darcy isn’t a slut, exactly, but she doesn’t understand Stella’s need to keep her distance from people physically. Of course, Darcy doesn’t know Stella’s secret, either. She’s been able to play off her refusal to have sex as a personal and moral preference. In reality, though, it’s a necessity, to keep people from finding out the truth. Stella’s careful, but she can’t help but think one rogue hand would be enough to expose her for what she is. In the light of the day, she can admit to herself that that’s partially the reason she’d been so rude to Mr. Stark. Their altercation was at least mostly her fault and she can admit that. Hell, maybe if he does end up calling, unlikely as that seems, Stella will take the opportunity to apologize. Not that she thinks the notorious playboy Tony Stark will even remember one little blonde girl he’d knocked down at a club. 

 

Two days later, Stella’s mostly forgotten about the night at the club. Tony Stark never did call, but Stella wasn’t exactly expecting him to, so that’s alright. There is a call she’s waiting for, however, and it’s from Peggy. They don’t talk as often as Stella would like since international calls are so expensive, but they generally talk every two weeks or so. So when Stella gets a text from Peggy about making time together on Saturday afternoon Stella’s time, she’s practically counting down the hours.

She spends the morning painting, a hobby she picked up in college. Everyone always gushes over how talented they think she is, but for Stella’s it’s always just been something to pass the time. She’s passionate about it, of course, and she loves the way it makes her feel, but she doesn’t have the temperament to be an artist, and anyway, she could never give up her kids. She does tend to get absorbed in her paintings, though, which is why she leaves them for the weekends when she knows she has time. Her current piece is abstract and intriguing and it holds Stella’s attention almost completely. And that’s why she doesn’t look at the phone first before she picks up with the hand not holding her brush.

“Hey, Peggy,” she says absently into the phone. “How’s that English weather?” It’s an old joke between them, born when Stella had been helping the woman write a pros and cons list about whether the move was a good idea and they’d run out of actual, concrete cons. 

There’s a brief pause, and then the voice on the other end, the man’s voice, says, “Well, I mean, I’m not Peggy, but I assume the English weather is terrible. I could look it up if you want to know for sure.”

Stella drops her paintbrush. It bounces the whole way down her front and lands on the hardwood, staining everything in its path crimson red. “Oh, shoot!” she says, then to the man on the phone adds, “Just a second.”

Hurriedly, she puts the phone aside and snatches up the paintbrush, setting it on the ledge on the easel. Her clothes and the easel are already a loss, so it doesn’t matter if they get paint on them, but she’s been trying to keep the floor clean, which means running to the kitchen and grabbing a wet paper towel to wipe the paint spill up. The whole thing can’t take more than two minutes, but by the time she gets back to her phone, she thinks whoever’s on the other line will probably have hung up already.

“Are you still there?” she asks tentatively. 

“Sure am, doll,” the man says. “Still not Peggy, though. And seriously, how did you not know I wasn’t her when you answered the phone? Like, doesn’t your phone have caller ID?”

“I was distracted,” Stella says defensively. What right does this random man have to insult her mistakes? “Who is this and what do you want?”

“See, the thing is,” he starts, “I’ve been going through a dry spell, in more ways than one, and I happened to come across your number in my jacket pocket and it says quite clearly ‘Stella- pretty little blonde’ right under the number, and I mean, I could just track the number and find your house and come over there in person to see if you’re interested, but that seemed a little stalkery, you know? So I figured I’d call instead and see how that went.”

“Who is this?” Stella repeats, because she thinks she knows- there’s only one man who’s been given her number recently, as far as she’s aware- but she wants clarification, wants a name to file on a police report if this guy is as creepy as he’s coming across.

“Name’s Tony,” the man says and it doesn’t escape Stella’s attention that he doesn’t give his last name. That could mean anything and she won’t deny it makes her nervous. 

“Well then, Tony,” she says as firmly as she can. “Let’s get this straight: you’re obviously the man who knocked me down on Wednesday night at the club, gave me a half-assed apology and then grabbed me without my permission. And while you might think it’s okay for you to track down my friends after all that and find my number, I didn’t give my okay for that, either. I don’t know what planet you were raised on, but that is not okay here on Earth. You might be some pampered brat who gets whatever he wants, but I’m not going to be another notch on your bedpost. I’m not going to be your ‘pretty little blonde’ distraction from your dry spell, Mr. Stark. Do us both a favor and lose my number.” 

Then she hangs up. It’s probably the rudest thing she’s ever done and she would feel bad about it, but he’s the jerk here, not her. What kind of man calls a girl up and makes it clear he just wants to use her for sex? Not the kind Stella wants to get to know, that’s for sure, and from what she understands, it’s classic Tony Stark. She doesn’t even have time to dwell on it, though, before her phone rings again, Peggy this time, for real.

“Hey, Peggy,” she says, a little bit shaky from her last conversation but determined not to give herself away to Peggy, who would only worry about not being there for Stella all over again. “How’s the English weather?”

 

 

“He called me!” Stella says in an appalled whisper, leaning over Darcy’s desk Monday morning. 

“What?” Darcy says, looking up from filing her nails. “Who did?”

“Tony Stark,” Stella says. She’s been reliving the conversation all weekend, equal parts horrified, hopeful and ashamed. Because, the thing is, he might be Tony Stark and he might be a creeper, but he’d decided she was good-looking enough to call her number, and that means other men who are less of an asshole might just feel the same way. The shame, though, that’s all her; she was definitely the jerk in that conversation, even if he did come on a little strong.

“No way!” Darcy says, dropping her file. “He called you? What did you say?”

“I told him off,” Stella admits. At Darcy’s astonished look, Stella hurries to explain herself. “He was just so matter-of-fact about the whole thing, like he expected me to just fall at his feet and sleep with him. He literally said he only called because he was having a dry spell.”

“Yeah, okay, so he’s a dick,” Darcy says, face still incredulous. “He’s still Tony Stark. He’s famous! And gorgeous! How could you turn that down?”

“I don’t have sex,” Stella reminds her. “And that was all he wanted. I want a man who wants to date me, wants a future, a family.”

“Who says he doesn’t want all that?” Darcy says.

“He’s Tony Stark,” Stella says firmly. “He only wants sex and he’s got plenty of other floozies to have it with.”

“If you say so,” Darcy says, going back to her nails. “But if it were me, I’d have jumped at the chance. Besides, I bet even Tony Stark has a deep side.”

“I doubt it,” Stella says, thinking about his latest exploits in the online tabloids. “That man is a walking ad for male immaturity. Trust me, now that he knows I won’t have sex with him, he’s already forgotten the whole thing even happened.”

 

Of course, that doesn’t explain the text a few hours later during Language Arts class. Stella’s sitting at her desk, grading math homework while her little ones take a test on the difference between vowels and consonants when her phone buzzes softly. Cautiously, she looks around to be sure none of the kids have been disturbed, then checks the message. It’s from an unknown number, but she decides to open it anyway.

It says, ‘Mars.’

Stella can feel her eyebrows rising. What on earth does that mean? And who would have her number but not be in her contacts list already? Well, she can think of one person. She checks her Recent Calls log and sure enough, the number is the same as the one that called her on Saturday. But why on earth would Tony Stark be texting her after she hung up on him? Surely he’s lost interest in her by now.

Curious, willing to take a chance, Stella texts back. ‘What?’

The reply comes less than thirty seconds later. ‘You asked what planet I was raised on. It was Mars.’

It feels like there should be a joke there, Stella thinks, or at least something to explain the odd statement. There’s not, though, no explanation for either the words or the text itself. But hey, she figures, if he can play that game, she can sure play along. She’s not really mad anymore about him expecting her to have sex or about him touching her, and thinks she might have actually been taking out her general frustration with men on him. And really, what’s the harm in one little text conversation.

‘I guess the change in gravity explains your swelled head.’ she sends back.

‘That’s actually from all the helium I breathed in as a child,’ he replies. ‘But gravity sure explains me falling for you.’

‘Are all your pickup lines this terrible?’ Stella asks. ‘How do you ever get women to sleep with you?’

‘Sheer persistence,’ he responds and that’s when Stella knows she’s in trouble.

‘I’m not going to have sex with you,’ she sends. 

‘I’d make it worth your while,’ he tempts. ‘I’ve got plenty of experience and I know what I’m doing.’

Stella doesn’t doubt that’s true for women with actual girl parts, but Stella’d bet her favorite pair of heels that Tony doesn’t have any experience at all touching someone else’s dick.

‘I’m waiting until marriage,’ she texts. It’s not exactly true, but since she is waiting for someone who will love her enough to overlook her body, it amounts to the same thing: she’s not going to have casual sex with Tony Stark.

‘Fair enough,’ he says. ‘But what about those gray areas? Handjobs? Oral? Phone sex?’

She’d be angry about him not respecting her boundaries, but those are boundaries Stella herself hasn’t really hashed out yet. She’s never had a boyfriend, exactly, just a few dates here and there. No one has ever stuck around long enough to be worth testing those other things out. She’s not opposed, in theory, to giving a boyfriend a handjob or sucking him off, as long as they’d be okay with not reciprocating, and let’s face it, what guy wouldn’t be okay with a deal like that, not having to lift a finger and still getting off? And phone sex, well, that might be okay, except that they’d probably want her to say what they were doing and Stella has very little firsthand experience with female equipment, which would probably give her away right off the bat.

When she doesn’t reply after a minute, Tony sends her a big-grinned smiley face, which she imagines is his to stand in for the smug grin he’s probably wearing. 

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ she says. She’s not totally unwilling to have sex with him, not now that he’s provided options she can actually use, but she’s not getting her hopes up, either. He’s still Tony Stark and he’s still going to either get bored of her or just generally act like a jerk sooner rather than later. When that happens, Stella vows she’s not going to care. This is just for fun, which is something she can totally do when she lets herself. It is, really. Now if only she keeps reminding herself that, she’s just going to let this thing, whatever it is, take her where it wants. 

‘Don’t you have work to do?’ she asks, genuinely curious. How does the CEO of a company have time to just text all day?

‘In a meeting,’ he explains. ‘Very boring. Hoping my Martian family will attack any minute and rescue me.’

‘I’ve been teaching my first graders that you have to solve your own problems and not wait for someone to rescue you,’ she teases.

‘I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get into a fight on the playground.’

This man, Stella thinks, rolling her eyes. He’s infectious, she’ll give him that. It’s too soon to tell, way too soon, and it could just be her desperation talking, but she thinks she’s starting to actually like him.

 

They text for ten more minutes until Stella’s students are all finished with their tests, at which point Stella has to actually get up and do some work. It’s Monday, which means she’s still got the rest of Language Arts before lunch, then Story Time, Math, Recess, and finally Independent Reading to finish out the day. Stella doesn’t get a chance to check her text messages the rest of the class until lunch, at which point she discovers she has seventeen unrelated messages from Tony (and also one from Darcy, but that’s not the point). They text all through lunch while Stella eats her sandwich and celery sticks one-handed, mostly about what Tony thinks a society on Mars would really be like and also a little bit about how he’d like dinosaurs to bust into his meeting and eat everyone else but him. He even asks after her kids, which is sweet and a little endearing and shows he doesn’t hate children, always a plus in a man Stella might at some point consider a future with. 

Lunch ends all too soon and Stella has to go back to her classes and teach. Stella loves her job, absolutely enjoys it, but she’ll admit, some days she’d rather be by herself texting a guy. It was never really an issue before today, but she’s foreseeing it becoming more of a problem in the future- that is, if Tony stays interested, which isn’t a guarantee for any amount of time. Still, even if he doesn’t, this whole situation has given her hope that someone else might just be interested, someone permanent and steady, someone she’ll want to be texting constantly and that she’d ignore her class for. It’s a novel idea and one she can’t wait to make happen.

 

 

Stella’s boss stops her on the way out, calls her into the office.

“Take a seat, Rogers,” Principal Coulson says, waving for her to take a seat. He’s the only one who works at the school on a daily basis that knows her secret, but he’s always been professional about it, which is the reason Stella likes him. She had an embarrassing sort of crush on him when she’d first started working here two years ago, but it’s since dissipated, leaving their relationship on pleasantly friendly terms.

Stella sits obediently and Coulson wastes no time in explaining the situation. 

“We’re getting a new wave of student teachers,” he says cooly. “Your class has been chosen to host one of them, a young woman named Wanda Maximoff. She’ll be starting tomorrow. I want you to start her off easy, observing and helping for the first three weeks, then give her two or three of your subjects to handle for the duration of her stay. Answer any questions she has and guide her along. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” Stella says. One of the things she likes about Coulson is that he’s very exact in his instructions. It won’t be that hard, she thinks. After all, Stella was a student teacher herself once, she knows how it goes, knows what needs to be said and what needs to be experienced firsthand. And also, it’ll give Stella more time to text, which she’ll admit makes her smile. 

“Okay, then,” Coulson says, standing and moving to get the door for her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Stella reads on the subway, a new romance novel she started yesterday about a pirate queen torn between her love for treasure and love for her first mate who wants to give up the life of piracy. It’s enthralling, enough so that she doesn’t notice Tony’s latest text until she gets back to her apartment, which is good, because the implications of the thing are enough to make her blush.

‘I’m calling you at three o’clock exactly,’ it says. ‘And my hand will be down my pants.’

He’s very forward, but Stella already knew that about Tony Stark. And now that she’s not feeling scared about actual physical sex or even any touching at all, she’s a lot more amiable to the idea. The clock on the wall tells her she’s got about five minutes until three, which is just enough time to get into her bedroom and kick off her shoes. She’d worn slacks and a blouse today, both of which she gets off in a heartbeat. Her bra and panties go, too, and she grabs the lube out of the drawer. If this is as close as she’s ever going to get to sex with an actual living, breathing man, she’s going to take it.

When the phone rings, she almost forgets to breathe. “Hello?” she says, as casually as she can.

“Hiya,” Tony says, sounding pleased. “Wasn’t sure you’d pick up. Not that I’m going to knock this change of heart or anything. But in full disclosure, I’m going to jerk myself off while we talk. Do I, uh, have your permission or whatever? I know that kind of thing is important to you.”

“Yeah,” Stella breathes. It’s too soon, she thinks, too soon for her to be feeling warm and fuzzy at the sound of his voice when she couldn’t stand the thought of him two days ago. She wants this, though, wants some kind of human connection so very badly, and even if this isn’t quite real, she’ll take it. Plus, Tony Stark isn’t as bad as she’d thought. She doesn’t know him well, but he’d been charming and funny all day and more than that, he’d been honest about what he wants. Honesty is something Stella can respect. 

“Awesome,” Tony says and his breathing speeds up a bit. “In that case, I’ve got my cock in my hand right now. I like it kinda rough, you know? I’ve got the callouses for it, but you, I bet your hands are smooth. You probably use hand cream, right? Me too, but for a whole other reason, baby. Bet you’ve got small hands, though.”

“Not really,” Stella admits. She looks at her hands, analyzing them. She’s always had big hands and big feet, like a puppy that hasn’t grown into its body yet, but she likes her hands, likes what they can do. She uses one of them to wrap around her own cock and squeeze lightly. Her breath catches in her throat.

“You’re touching yourself, too, aren’t you?” Tony accuses playfully. “Bet you’ve got fingers on your little clit, don’t you? Or maybe you like it deeper, like to work yourself open on your fingers.”

Stella blushes, starts to stroke herself in earnest. She doesn’t like women, but she likes the sound of Tony’s voice, likes how breathy he is, how turned-on. She can imagine him jerking himself off, fucking into his fist. “I, I’m not inside yet,” she manages.

“I bet you’re wet for me, though,” Tony says. “Bet you’re wet and leaking all down your thighs.”

Not yet, Stella thinks and reaches for the lube. She’s only got one hand free, the other holding the phone to her ear, so she has to let go of her dick to grab the bottle, but it’s worth it, because as soon as she gets the slick on her fingers she can reach down and start to work herself open. She smears some lube on the inside of her thighs while she’s at it, because she likes the idea of being what Tony imagines. 

“Tell me what you’re doing, blondie,” Tony demands eagerly. “Tell me how you’re getting yourself off.”

“Fingers,” Stella replies with a strangled voice as she slips one finger inside. “I’ve got a finger inside.” She blushes harder than ever.

Tony moans and his breathing picks up, like he’s jerking himself off faster. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Tell me more, tell me what you’d want me to do to do if I was there.” When Stella can’t make herself say anything for a long moment, he continues, “You want me to fuck you? Or maybe you want my mouth on your sweet pussy. Want me to lick you, suck you? I’d make it good for you, sure as fuck know what I’m doing. I’d have you coming in minutes, Stella, have you writhing on my tongue, shaking for it.”

“No,” Stella manages, because she wants to talk about things that could actually happen. “I want to suck you.” And she does, too, wants it so badly her mouth starts to water. She can imagine it, imagine his cock, thick and salty in her mouth, fucking into her, choking her and yanking on her hair. 

She works another finger into her hole, trying not to shudder at the thought. She can hear Tony moaning on the end of the line, can hear his rapid breathing and hissed breaths. 

“Oh yeah, baby,” he says roughly. “We can do that. You want me to fuck your mouth? Want me to hold you by the ears and use your mouth, come down your throat, choke you on my dick?”

“Yes,” Stella say, fucking herself with two fingers. It’s rough and fast and she’s desperate for it, and she can hear Tony on the other end, just as desperate, just as wound-up. They just breath together, each of them working themselves toward orgasm and it’s so, so good. Stella’s close, she’s so close, so she lets go of the phone, lets if fall to the pillow and grabs her dick. She gives it three hard pulls and that’s it, she’s done for.

When she can make her fingers move again, she carefully wipes hand off on the blanket and grabs her phone. 

“You there?” Tony is asking.

“I’m here,” Stella confirms. She’s still floating, still relaxed out of her mind, like she could just curl her toes and die from happiness. She’s sure she’ll be super embarrassed about what they just did in a minute, but until then, she’s going to enjoy it.

“That was pretty cool,” Tony says nonchalantly, master of the understatement that he apparently is. “So, uh, now that we’ve consummated our relationship, as it were, how about we get some coffee sometime. I’m still kinda stalling out at work, having that dry spell, so I’ve got like all the time in the world.”

“Tomorrow,” Stella decides. “I’ve got class until two-thirty, but we can meet after that. Have any place in mind?”

Tony does, as a matter of fact and he tells her the address. They say their goodbyes after that and for all that Stella finds it awkward, she thinks she might be the only one. Nothing’s changed, she knows, and Tony Stark is still Tony Stark. He’s still a jerk and a playboy and he’s still going to forget about Stella as soon as he gets to know her or finds out the truth. Stella can’t help it, though, can’t help but be sucked in by him. Maybe it was the texts about the Martians or maybe it was the way he’d agreed that non-traditional sex would satisfy him, or maybe it was something else that Stella can’t identify. It doesn’t matter, either way. What matters is, Stella’s got a coffee date tomorrow with a man she might be able to stand and that’s certainly something.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, over two months since I updated last, huh? that's a new low, even for me. I'm really sorry about that, honest. I could give you a million reasons, a list of all the other things I was doing instead, but it wouldn't make a difference in the end. Instead, please accept my apology and let's all hope that the next update comes much, much sooner. 
> 
> also, remember back in chapter one when I said 15k at max? Hah! As if. This sucker's gonna be like 20k at the very least, though it probably won't be too much longer than that. so brace yourselves

It’s a mark of how messed up she is over Tony that Stella damn near forgets she has to work with a student teacher until she gets into the classroom the next morning and finds the woman waiting for her.

“Hi,” Stella says, smiling warmly at her and holding out her hand to shake. She remembers how nerve-wracking her first day at a new posting always was and vows to be especially nice today to make up for it. “Stella Rogers. You must be Wanda.”

“That’s me,” Wanda agrees. 

“Well, welcome to the first grade,” Stella says, waving her arms around her to indicate her classroom. “Have you had an elementary placement yet or is this your first?”

“This is my first,” Wanda confirms. Her smile seems a little forced, a little nervous, but that’s to be expected. “So far, I’ve only been in high schools. Is it much different?”

Stella considers. “It is and it isn’t. School is school, of course, but the subjects we’re teaching are pretty basic. And the children are different, of course. Most of them are very sweet, but they do require quite a bit of patience. Well,” she says, smiling ruefully, “you remember elementary, right?”

“Actually, I was homeschooled,” Wanda says and she’s looking awkward again.

“Oh,” Stella says, thinking that makes sense on some level, considering Wanda’s awkwardness. Of course, not all people who are awkward were homeschooled; Stella herself went to public school all her life and still finds herself tongue-tied at the worst moments. “Well, don’t worry: you’ll pick it up soon enough.” She pauses, thinking. She’s never had a student teacher before, but she has been one, so she knows how it goes. “So, have you turned in all your paperwork to Principal Coulson?”

Wanda nods. “He was rather strict,” she says, which is the understatement of the year. Stella gets more leniency than most teachers, she knows, mostly because Coulson has something of a soft spot for her, despite the fact that he knows the truth about what she is, but even she rarely gets away with anything. 

Stella laughs. “He is, at that. Anyway, I was thinking that for today, we’ll introduce you and then you can just observe. Probably tomorrow we’ll get you started working with the kids and helping them. You’re here for seven weeks, so next week we’ll have you start doing morning activities, story time and escorting them to their special classes like gym, music, and art on your own, as well as helping out during all classes. The week after that, we’ll have you start on a unit by yourself. I think about that time we should be starting on a new unit about on living and nonliving things in Science, so you can handle that. I’ll give you an outline on all the things that need to be included in the lesson and you’ll have to show me your lesson plans for each week a few days before so I can approve them. And that unit will last for the rest of your time with us. Uh, that’s all rather vague, but you’ll see what I mean. Any questions right now?”  
Wanda shakes her head, which is good, because just then, a little voice shouts, “Miss Stella!” and the tiny body of a first grader barrels into Stella’s legs. 

“Hi, Jan,” Stella says, smiling down at the girl. “You’re a bit early today.”

“My mommy had to go to work,” the girl says. To Wanda, she adds, “She makes dresses.”

Stella doesn’t laugh, just like she never laughs at these kids for the goofy things they say and do, the ways they react to new situations like having a student teacher for the first time. “This is Miss Wanda,” Stella explains. “She’s a student teacher and she’ll be with us for seven weeks.”

“Seven whole weeks?” Jan asks, wide-eyed.

“Seven whole weeks,” Stella confirms. “Now why don’t you go play? You can make Hank something special at the coloring station if you want.”

“Okay, Miss Stella,” Jan says, eyes lighting up at the mention of Hank’s name. “Bye, Miss Wanda.”

“Bye,” Wanda says, sounding a little awed. It’s not a surprising first reaction to Jan and it makes Stella grin. 

“She’s a sweet girl,” she says conversationally, quiet enough that Jan won’t hear them. She learned a trick in her first year as a teacher about holding up a folder in front of her face to gossip with the other teachers without any of the students hearing, but they don’t have to worry about one little love-struck girl on the other side of the room. “She’s got this thing for Hank Pym- puppy love, if you will- but Hank is much too shy to even look at her, let alone secretly hold her hand on the playground like she tries to convince him to.”

“Well,” Wanda says, smiling tentatively. “He sounds like my kind of kid. I’m rather shy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I had, actually.” Stella chuckles a very tiny bit. “But don’t worry; you’ll grow out of it soon enough with this job. Now, how about I show you around the room?”

 

By the time the majority of the kids start spilling into the classroom, Wanda has been given the grand tour of the room and all the things in it, from the Schedule Board to the cubbies in the back where the kids keep their backpacks and lunch boxes. She’s also been shown around to the various activity stations: the coloring station, the blocks, the play kitchen set, the toy box with various assorted dolls and playthings, and the library corner with the Independent Reading books. 

“They play here in the mornings before class,” Stella explains. “Also if the weather is too bad for us to go outside during recess. They have to put all the toys away before class starts again and if they don’t do it in a timely manner or if they leave a mess, recess time gets taken away.”

Wanda nods along, dutifully. 

“We also do a fair number of crafts,” Stella continues. “They usually work at their desks independently and I let them talk quietly while they’re doing it, as long as they get their work done. We keep all the art supplies here.” She indicates a plastic Sterilite set of drawers at the back of the room, right next to the big table that serves as the coloring station. “The crayons and paper are in the bottom drawer, and that’s the only one the kids are allowed to get into themselves.” The top drawer contains glue and scissors, the most dangerous art supplies Stella has in the room, and the middle drawer has markers, only slightly less destructive. “If any of the kids opens one of the top drawers, they lose recess time. That’s actually a fairly standard punishment here, but most of these kids are good, so I don’t have to worry about it much.”

The last stop on their tour is the extra table next to Stella’s desk, the one she usually uses keep extra piles of homework and quizzes and things she hasn’t gotten to yet. She quickly clears those things off and sets them on her own desk. 

“This will be your desk,” she says. “It’s not much, but I’ll make sure you get a better chair than this one and of course, you can decorate it however you want.”

“It’s fine,” Wanda says. “I’m sure it’ll work perfectly.”

“Okay,” Stella says, pleased at how this is all working out so far. “We’ve got a few minutes left until class starts. I usually give them until 8:05 to play and then another few minutes to clean up after that. First grade is rather informal, as you can see. I’ll introduce you first thing, then you can just sit back and take notes, if you’d like, or whatever you prefer. Today’s just observation. Tomorrow, the hard stuff starts.”

She uses the few minutes before class to make space on her now-overcrowded desk, sorting things into piles. She makes a mental note to catch up on her paperwork, though of course, that can wait until after her coffee date tonight, especially since the very thought of it gives her butterflies. 

After a minute, she pulls herself together and claps her hands together. “Okay, class,” she says loudly over the noise. “Time to put our things away and get to our seats.”

They do, with just a few grumbles. When the toys are all put away and the kids are sitting at their desks, she goes to stand in the front of the room and motions Wanda to follow behind her. “Good morning, class,” she says and pauses while they say good morning back to her. “Today, we have a special visitor. This is Miss Wanda and she’s a student teacher. She’ll be with our class for seven weeks. Can you all say hello to Miss Wanda?”

“Hello, Miss Wanda,” they all chorus dutifully. 

“Hello, class,” Wanda says and it makes Stella smile. 

“Miss Wanda is just going to be watching us work today, so I want you all on your best behavior to impress her. Now, let’s go over the schedule.” She gives Wanda a nod and the girl goes back to her little desk and sits, taking some papers out of her bag and grabbing a pen to start filling them out. “Today is Tuesday,” Stella says, picking up her pointer stick. “Today we have Social Studies, Reading, Music class with Miss Allison, the lunch. After lunch, we have Story Time, Math, Recess, and finally Science.”

The morning goes according to plan. They’ve branched out from families in Social Studies and are now talking about communities and what it means to live in one. They’ll be talking about the difference between cities and towns, soon, but the key is to take it slow, one step at a time and have an activity for each step. In reading, they take turns reading sentences from a short story in the textbook, one about playing ball. Toward the end of the year, she’ll get them playing popcorn to decide who reads what, but for now they just go up and down the rows so no one gets confused.

Wanda tags along when Stella takes the kids to music. They line up in two rows and even though they all know there’s absolutely no talking in the halls, Stella has to turn around more than once to glare at Jan. Allison’s already in her classroom when they get there, so Stella just gives the kids a little wave and leaves them there. They’re about to start learning to play recorders, Stella knows, but for now, they’re just learning the names of the parts and the notes they’ll be able to play. They also watch a fair number of silly videos in that class, she knows, but, well, they are only six.

“We’ll pick them up in 45 minutes,” Stella tells Wanda as they walk back to the classroom. “I usually use this time to do some grading, or if there isn’t anything pressing, I go visit Darcy in the office. We’ll see her next period, though, at lunch, so I can introduce you guys then.”

“Sounds good,” Wanda agrees and that’s that.

They go back to the classroom, where Wanda works on filling out the many documents about Stella’s teaching style and schedule for her college classes. Stella just slumps in her seat and pulls out her phone. As she’d hoped, she’s got a few texts from Tony. They’re silly, mostly, and irrelevant, like most of his texts are, but Stella texts him back, anyway.

‘Kids are finally in music class,’ she sends. ‘Best part of my day.’ 

While she’s waiting for a reply, she starts to grade the math homework from yesterday- still clocks, because some of the kids just aren’t catching on. She’s done three or four papers before her phone buzzes. It’s a picture message of a piano of some kind, Stella doesn’t know what, and the text below it says, ‘Used to be the worst part of mine. Eight years of lessons :( ’

She’s guessing from what she knows about Tony that his music lessons weren’t the type provided by a public elementary school. He probably had some fancy tutor that used to play for some high class orchestra come to his house every week and taught him. It’s certainly got nothing on the impending recorder lessons for her class. That piano in the picture probably cost thousands of dollars, as opposed to recorders, which cost fifteen dollars a pop and include a free song book.

Well, if that isn’t a depressing thought. It occurs to her for the first time what getting to know a rich man might actually involve. She’d considered his celebrity and his playboy reputation when she agreed to meet him, but she hadn’t actually thought about him being rich. What if he wants to take her to some fancy restaurants with all kind of extra forks and spoons she doesn’t know how to use?

“You okay?” Wanda asks suddenly.

Stella jumps. “I’m fine,” she says sheepishly. “Just thinking. Have you ever dated a rich man?”

“Define rich,” Wanda says. “Because I dated a stockbroker once, but that’s as high up on the totem pole as I ever went. And he was kind of a jerk, anyway. Why, who are you talking to?”

“Just this guy,” Stella tells her, not ready to spill the whole story again, not until she sees how things go on their coffee date. “But he’s rich. Like, the one percent kind of rich, and I’m just not sure how to process that.”

“Well is he nice?” Wanda asks.

Stella laughs. “Define nice,” she says. “He doesn’t seem cruel, but he’s not especially kind, either. I don’t know, I haven’t even met him yet. We’ve just been texting for a few days and we talked on the phone once. We’ve got a date tonight and I’m just a little nervous.” Well, twice, but that first time didn’t really count.

“It’ll be fine,” Wanda says kindly. “You’ll see.”

“Yeah,” Stella says, forcing herself to believe this. “It’ll be great.”

To Tony, she texts, ‘Little rich boy problems,’ but she adds a winky face to make it less harsh. After all, if they can’t talk about this, there’s no way they’re going to make it past one date.

‘You’re telling me,’ Tony sends back. ‘And you haven’t even heard about my pervy prep school choir teacher, yet.’

‘Oh, goodness,’ Stella types, thinking of her kids. ‘Don’t even joke.’

A few minutes and a few math papers later, she gets ‘Who’s joking? I’ll tell you the story over coffee.’

Stella can’t stand the thought, so she changes the subject. They text back and forth until it’s time to get the kids for lunch. Stella finishes her math papers, but just barely, and makes a note to show Wanda her grading system and method after lunch. The kids are all wound up, just like they always are after their special classes, so it takes a few glares and even a threat of taking recess time away for them to get back to the classroom in silence. In the classroom, they all grab their lunch boxes or money from their cubbies and line up again for the short trip across the hall to the cafeteria.

They’re a bit early to the teacher’s lounge, so Stella finds them a good table and sits down to wait for Darcy and Jane. She takes out her salad and fork and starts to eat. It’s not that great, just lettuce and tomatoes, but it’s the best she can do on a teacher’s salary, and she’d grown up rough enough that she’d never turn her nose up at food, no matter what it tastes like. It’s been hard since Peggy left for England, since Stella’s paying the whole rent on the apartment by herself now, but she’s making it alright. It’d be a lot better if she could pay off her student loans finally, but she’ll get there and until then, she’ll make do. After all, there are starving kids on the streets in this city, so Stella’s got it great, all things considered.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asks, noticing Wanda picking disinterestedly at her sandwich. 

“It’s not that,” Wanda says. “I’ve just been a bit nauseous lately.” She leans in to whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m pregnant.”

Stella’s heart flutters and she shoves down her jealousy enough to put on a smile. “Congratulations!” she says and she really means it, because there need to be more babies in the world and she doesn’t know Wanda well, but she seems like she’s good with kids. “How far along are you?”

“Just over two months,” Wanda says, which explains why her tight blouse doesn’t give her secret away. “I’m a little nervous,” she admits. “This is my first time, you know. Do you have any kids?”

Stella feels her smile go slightly bittersweet. “No,” she says and is glad when her voice doesn’t waver. “I can’t get pregnant.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wanda says, face falling. “Have you thought about adoption?”

As a matter of fact, Stella has thought about it, but between her being single and working on a teacher’s salary and her being what she is, her chances aren’t good. Plus, she sort of wants to be married or at least in a committed relationship before any kids come into the picture, and not just because that would complicate her dating life even more. Idly, she considers what Tony Stark would think about having kids, then dismisses it as embarrassing and irrelevant. He’s still not really her boyfriend, just a guy she’s had phone sex with once. They’re certainly not at the ring-buying stage yet.

“Maybe someday,” she says at last. “Until then, well, you know what they say: Those who can’t do teach.” 

They’re interrupted just then by Darcy plopping down on Stella’s other side and Jane sitting down rather more delicately across from them. Darcy doesn’t waste any time, just pulls out the burger she’s brought for lunch and starts right in on Stella.

“So how’s the billionaire?” she asks.

“Fine,” Stella says flatly. “We’re going for coffee today.”

“And then sex?” Darcy presses.

“Darcy,” Jane says, shaking her head slightly. “Don’t tease her. You know she doesn’t do that.”

“You don’t have sex?” Wanda asks curiously. 

“I have my reasons,” Stella says carefully. “I’m waiting until I find the right person.”

“That could totally be Tony Stark, though,” Darcy persists. “I mean, he’s got a lot of experience, right?”

“The right person, emotionally,” Stella clarifies. “His sexual… prowess has nothing to do with that.” Though she’ll admit, he certainly made her feel good last night. “And anyway, that can wait. We’re going for coffee tonight and we’re going to get to know each other. If he’s the one, he’s the one, but I’m just not ready to decide right now.”

“Congratulations,” Jane says. “This’ll be your first date in over a year, right?”

A year and a half, technically, but Stella just blushes and nods. Wanda was going to find out eventually what a loser her host teacher is, but it didn’t have to happen on the girl’s first day. She clears her throat. “Anyway,” she says, “what’s new with you guys?”

She manages to keep the conversation off herself through the rest of the period. They talk about Jane’s new hippie boyfriend Thor, and about Darcy’s parents coming to visit next weekend and how her house is going to need like twenty hours of work to be ready before that happens. Wanda chimes in about one of her girlfriends who cleans for a living and about how much money she doesn’t make. Then the conversation turns to Darcy’s epic period cramps, at which point Stella just nods along vaguely and feels guilty. These are her friends, she knows, and they won’t judge her for being who she is, but she can’t help but feeling like telling them the truth would ruin everything. She’ll tell them eventually, but she’s just not ready right now and she never really stops feeling bad about that. 

When the bell rings for the lunch period to be over, they all pack up their things and part ways, except for Wanda, who trails after Stella as she collects the kids and takes them back to the classroom. They pretty much fly through the rest of the room, probably because Stella’s so excited about the date after school. 

During Story Time, Stella starts _Did You Carry the Flag Today, Charley?_ , for which she’s got a great project about homemade soap planned when they’re done with the book. The kids love it and the only thing that gets them through Math class afterward is the thought of Recess after that. It’s still fairly nice out, so they get the kids into their coats and take them out to the playground, where Stella and Wanda stand by the fence and chat while the kids run and scream. The kids are sad to go back inside, but Stella just reminds them that it’s almost time to go home and they come easily enough. The last class is science, in which they study the basic necessities of life and do worksheets identifying them. Then, finally, finally, the clock ticks over to 2:20 and Stella gets the kids into their coats and takes them down to meet the school buses. 

“So what did you think?” she asks Wanda when the last of the buses has pulled away.

“I can’t wait to get to know them,” Wanda says, which is absolutely the right answer to win Stella over.

“Don’t worry,” she says, smiling. “You’ll get there soon enough. And when you do, you’ll never want to leave.”

 

She leaves Wanda at the office to meet with Principal Coulson about her first day and waves to Darcy on her way out. Some days they stay and talk together for a while, but today Stella’s got a date. She’s supposed to meet Tony at three, so even though the coffee shop isn’t far from here, she doesn’t have to time to go home and change. She planned for that, though, and wore her favorite blouse, the blue one that matches her eyes and the empire waist that draws eyes away from her hips and waist. 

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=2nsonis)

It’s a few blocks walk, but the sidewalk is crowded and Stella’s in heels to make her legs look longer, so it takes her about twenty minutes to get there. She doesn’t see Tony when she walks in, so she orders a coffee and sits by the window, hoping against hope she’s not about to be stood up. Anxious, she takes out her book and starts to read.

“The Pirate Queen’s Plunder,” she hears after a few minutes and looks up to see Tony Stark.

“What?” she says stupidly, awe struck by how much cuter he is without the neon lights and the frustration from last time they met, with his colored shades pushed up into his hair and his suit coat over a t-shirt accentuating his broad shoulders.

“Your book,” he says, pulling out the chair across from her and parking himself easily in it. “It’s about pirates?”

“Oh,” Stella says, blushing and shoving the book back into her bag. “Yeah, it’s… it’s not important.”

“No, it’s cool,” Tony says, smirking at her. “Girls can be pirates, that’s fine. I mean, they probably didn’t have any teeth and they probably all had syphilis, but that’s fine. You like what you like, right?”

“It’s not like that in the book,” Stella points out. “Clearly.”

“What, STDs don’t turn you on?” Tony says. “I mean, I know I usually deal with less classy ladies than you, but I don’t think you know what you’re missing out on.”

“I told you,” Stella says tersely. “I don’t have sex.”

“And yet you seem like you’d be very good at it,” he says, looking her up and down. “Based purely on how hot you are and how enthusiastic you were on the phone. You look fantastic, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Stella says, blushing slightly. She’s not ashamed of what they did on the phone, but Tony Stark does know how to make her warm all over. “I- I enjoyed it.”

“Good,” he says, not looking embarrassed at all. “Me, too. We should do it again sometime. In the meantime, what do you say we do some talking? My PA seems to think I can’t do human interaction, so let’s prove her wrong, huh?”

“It’s funny,” Stella says, smiling. “My girlfriends say the same thing about me. My friend Darcy has a date every night of the week and Jane has a steady boyfriend, so I’m pretty much the odd one out. Of course, I don’t imagine you have that kind of problem.”

“You’d imagine wrong,” Tony says easily. “Being me isn’t all picking girls up at clubs and fucking them in back alleys, you know. I mean, there is a bit of that, but mostly it’s staying up for three days at a time then passing out at my desk and waking up covered in engine grease with a crick in my neck.”

“What is exactly that you do?” Stella asks curiously. She’d thought he just went to a lot of meetings and parties, but this doesn’t sound like that.

“Whatever I want,” he says. “Used to be weapons, but now it’s mostly misc technology: phones, tablets, helicopters, body armor, assorted medical devices, that kind of thing.”

“Why’d you stop making weapons? Isn’t that kind of a 180 turn?”

Tony’s face goes from open to shuttered briefly, then settles on a guarded smile. “Let’s just say I had a change of heart about four years ago,” he says cautiously. “A moment of clarity, if you will.”

That’s rather mysterious, but Stella can let him have his secrets. She has hers, after all. “That’s admirable,” she decides. 

“Thanks,” Tony says easily. “What about you? You said you teach first grade? In my experience, that either means you love kids or you can’t stand the sight of them.”

That startles Stella into a laugh, because that’s her experience, as well. There are some teachers at the school that approach every day as if it’s torture and use their lunch breaks and special periods to chain smoke in the parking lot. She had some teachers like that when she was a kid, too, and not just in elementary, but all through high school and college. 

“I’m one of the good ones,” she assures him. “I’ve only been teaching for three years, but I adore my kids. I cry every year when they move up to the second grade.”

“Maybe if I’d have had a teacher like you, I would have spent more time studying and less chasing girls,” Tony says. “Of course, I never went to first grade, so it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference, anyway.”

“You probably skipped grades, didn’t you?” Stella asks. She knows he’s a genius, but she doesn’t know the specifics of his education. 

“Just a few,” Tony says casually. “Three or four, no big deal.”

Stella shakes her head, amazed. She can’t imagine any of her little ones doing fifth grade work. Reed is arguably her smartest kid and he could probably only skip one grade at the most without being horribly lost. The next smartest, Hank, couldn’t even manage that, though he’s well above average. 

“Wow,” she says. “That’s… that’s extremely impressive.”

“No big deal,” he says and she can tell that he really thinks that. He might play up the genius for the press, but give the man an honest compliment and he plays it off like it doesn’t mean anything. “Anyway,” he continues, “tell me more about the kids you teach.”

That’s a mistake on his part, because Stella can talk about her kids for hours and she does. Tony doesn’t seem to mind, though, just puts his chin in his hands and listens to her. After about twenty minutes he pulls out his phone and starts to type, which she’d ordinarily consider rude, but the way his eyes keep flicking up at her apologetically lets her know he’s listening. He needs more stimulation than a normal person, she supposes, and the very fact that he’s still listening to her talk about her kids and her job and her plans for future lessons really says something. 

Eventually, she does run out of words and she and Tony just sort of stare at each other dopily for a minute until he coughs and looks away. “So,” he says, looking down at his phone one last time before slipping it back into his pocket. “I had a pretty good time today. You wanna do it again sometime, maybe over dinner? I know some pretty good places around the city.”

“I don’t know,” she says hesitantly. When his face falls momentarily before going completely blank, she hurries to clarify. “I definitely want to see you again. It’s just… I don’t know much about fancy restaurants or anything. I’ve seen Pretty Woman, I know how many extra forks and things there are at those places.”

Tony laughs, obviously relieved. “Okay, then,” he agrees. “Let’s go somewhere less fancy. I know a little hole-in-the-wall Italian joint we can go. Fork and knife kinda place. You don’t even get a straw unless you ask for it.”

“Okay, then,” Stella says, pleased with his answer and pleased with the world in general. “When?”

“Well, I’ve got a meeting in Tokyo on Friday, so I’ll be gone over the weekend, but how about next Tuesday?”

“Sounds perfect,” Stella says. “And you’ll call before then?”

“Depends,” he says, smile going sly. “How do you feel about transnational phone sex?”

Stella thinks of last night and how much she’d enjoyed it and how relaxed she was this morning when she woke up and makes her decision. “I could be persuaded,” she says, and she winks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a new chapter. It’s short and over half of it is sex, but to be fair, neither the last nor the next chapter have any sex at all, so this equals it all out or something. Whatever, there’ll be actual plot development next update. Warning for, uh… the bashing of Japanese porn? Also for Wanda and Pietro, who came out a bit Ultimate-y, if you know what I mean. It’s subtle, though, so if that bothers you, just ignore it and it’ll probably go away.

“How’s the Pirate Queen?” Tony asks first thing when Stella picks up the phone on Saturday afternoon.

“What?” Stella asks, confused. 

“Your book,” Tony says cheerfully. “It was about a pirate queen.”

“Oh,” Stella says, slightly embarrassed and yet pleased that he even remembered something so little and silly about her. “I finished that one. Now I’m reading one about a mermaid and a fisherman.”

“How’s that even work?” Tony asks.

“I’m only on the first chapter,” Stella tells him. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

“You do that,” Tony says. “I always did sort of wonder how mermaids reproduce.”

“The intellectual question of our time,” Stella says drily. “That and how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.”

“There have actually been studies on that,” Tony says conversationally. “At least two different licking machines have been built by engineering students over the years for that exact purpose. They got different results, of course, and both of those results were different from the human trials they did, so I guess in the end, the world may never know.”

“Why do you know that?” Stella asks, amazed and appalled. 

There’s a brief pause, then Tony says, voice too casual, “Let’s just say I know someone who really, really loves lollipops. And also pretty much every kind of candy out there. Seriously, the amount of candy-based facts I have stored away in my brain would honestly scare you.”

“I think everything about your brain would scare me,” Stella says. “But anyway, you didn’t call to talk about candy. Are you still in Japan? How was your meeting?”

“Yes and fine,” he says shortly. “Let’s not talk about work. I get enough of that when I’m actually at work. Tell me about you, instead. What are you wearing?”

“Jeans and a t-shirt,” Stella says. She doesn’t usually just bum around the apartment all weekend, but she’d been cleaning this morning and hadn’t wanted to get any of her good clothes dirty. She hadn’t even shaved or put on make-up or anything this morning, because she hadn’t planned on going out and no one ever visits, so it’s not like anyone would be around to see her being all masculine all over the place. “The shirt is striped.”

“Striped up and down or striped sideways?” Tony asks. “Think carefully before you say anything because the answer just might make or break this phone call.”

“Sideways,” Stella says. She’s not stupid, she knows he’s teasing her, but she also knows that up and down stripes make you look skinnier and sideways stripes make your figure look fuller. Stella’s already skinny enough on her own without anything adding to the effect, so she only ever buys sideways stripes. 

“Oh,” Tony says. “That’s alright, then. And what about under that? What are you wearing under your clothes?”

Stella pauses, considers. She’s wearing panties because she prefers them to boxers even when it’s just her in the house. There’s no bra, though, since she doesn’t technically need it and no one is around to question her lack of breasts. She can’t say that to Tony, though, not without giving herself away, so she just says, “Panties,” and lets it go at that. 

“Silky or cotton?” He fires back at once. “What color are they?”

“Cotton,” she says, wondering what’s with the third degree. “They’re white.”

Tony snorts a laugh and Stella feels herself blush just a bit. Alright, so technically she’s wearing granny panties, but to be fair, they’re certainly not the kind Stella’s grandmother would have worn. They’re the stylish kind, and even if she wouldn’t want to wear them under a dress or anything, they’re not as bad as all that. 

“Okay, then,” Stella says, pretending to be indignant. “Exactly what kind of underwear are you wearing, then, mister? I assume you’re not wearing a thong under your business suit.”

“You would assume wrong,” Tony says and Stella sputters.

“You… you are? Really?” She hasn’t known Tony long enough to be able to tell either way. He’s scandalous, certainly, but whether the scandal is the lie or actually wearing a thong, she doesn’t know. 

“Well, I was,” Tony says. “Red and gold, if you were wondering, my favorite colors. But right now they’re on the floor in a pile with the rest of my clothes.”

“Pretty sure of yourself,” Stella says, and she’s proud of her voice for staying cool even as she flushes with pleasure. “What were you going to do if I was busy and couldn’t talk?”

“Probably watch tentacle porn or something,” Tony says deadpan. “When in Rome, right?”

“Tentacle porn,” Stella repeats slowly, horrified. “You’re joking, right? That’s not a real thing. Please tell me that’s not a real thing.”

“No can do,” Tony tells her, obviously pleased with himself. “That is absolutely a real thing. Not exactly my cup of tea, but it totally exists. I don’t think it would be that bad, either, if it wasn’t, you know, made in Japan.”

“You don’t like Japanese girls?” Stella asks, thinking of Jemma Morita from college. They’ve lost touch these last few years, but Jemma was always a very pretty girl, though very down to earth, the type of girl Stella used to watch to model her feminine behavior after. 

“No, I love Japanese girls,” Tony explains. “I think they’re beautiful. I just don’t like Japanese-made porn. They’ve always got their women all tied up and crying and generally having a terrible time. Don’t get me wrong, I like handcuffs as much as the next red-blooded male, but that’s just a little bit too rape-y for me. I like my girls to actually, you know, enjoy having sex with me.”

“Well, I’m sure they appreciate that,” Stella says after a pause. She didn’t think Tony was the cold-hearted bastard the media made him out to be, not after he listened to her talk for hours about her kids, but she hadn’t exactly expected sexual consideration out of him. It gives her hope, thinking that if they ever actually have sex together, he might be gentle with her, treat her like she matters, make sure she has a good time. “I mean, I do.”

“The question is, do you appreciate it enough to strip out of those granny panties and let me talk dirty to you?”

“Well,” Stella hesitates for a long moment, not because she’s unsure, but because she wants to make him squirm. “I suppose so. If you insist.”

She hears Tony sigh in relief and chuckles slightly. “Whew,” he says. “I thought you were going to turn me down for a second there. Good choice, though, I totally approve. Now strip, woman, I’m way ahead of you, here.”

“Alright, alright,” Stella says. She makes her way into the bedroom and puts the phone down briefly so she can strip her clothes off. When she’s totally naked, she lies back on the bed and grabs the phone. She hadn’t thought of it the last time they did this, but she puts it on speaker phone and puts it on her pillow so she can use two hands this time. The first thing she hears is the slightly tinny sound of Tony’s slightly elevated breathing and it’s enough to make her heart start to beat faster. “Okay,” she says. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Tony says eagerly, “because I’ve already got my hand on my dick and if you kept me waiting much longer I might have actually cried. Or at least started web surfing one handed for that tentacle porn.”

Stella groans and not in a good way. “Don’t talk about tentacles when we’re both naked,” she scolds. 

She can practically hear Tony’s grin. “You got it, cutie. What do you want me to say instead? Want me to talk about how much I want to kiss you? ‘Cuz I do. I want to stick my tongue in your mouth, then I want to stick my tongue in other places on your body. You want that?”

“Yes,” Stella says, thinking about his lips and how inviting they’d looked after every sip of coffee during their date. “I bet it would sting, your facial hair. I’ve never had beard burn before.”

“So that’s how it is, huh?” he says, and Stella can hear his breathing pick up slightly. “You want my mouth all over you? I can do that. I’d fucking love to do that. Bet you want beard burn between your thighs, don’t you? You’d chafe for days and you’d think of me eating you out the entire time.”

“Yeah,” Stella says. She does want that, wants his tongue between her legs, not in the way he thinks, but that doesn’t matter now. She’s mostly hard already just from the anticipation, so she wraps a hand around her cock and starts to stroke, just a little at first, working up to it. “I want that. I want to think of you and this for days.”

“Good,” Tony replies. “I bet you’re beautiful right now, all spread out on your bed, thinking about my mouth on your cunt, my face against your thighs. Are you wet for me? Are you touching yourself?”

“I am,” Stella breathes. “I, I want you so much. I want your mouth and your tongue and your teeth, and everything.” She drags her fingernails down the inside of her left thigh where she thinks his cheek might rub and shudders.

“What else do you want?” he asks. “Tell me anything, everything that you want me to do. Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to blindfold you, or tie you up? Do you want me to choke you on my cock?”

“I want- can, can you- do you want-” she pauses, breathing hard, trying to find the right way to phrase the sentence through the pleasure and embarrassment.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Tony says breathily. “Just tell me what you need, whatever it is, I swear I’ll give it to you. What do you want me to do?”

“My ass,” she finally manages to force out. “I, I want your cock in my ass.”

Tony groans long and low. “Oh God, Stella,” he says hoarsely. “Yes, yes, that, let’s so do that. Have you ever done it before? Ever had anyone stick their dick up your pretty little asshole?”

“Just my fingers,” Stella pants. “And a toy.”

“You have toys?” he asks sharply, excitedly. “You should have said something! Get one, come on! Let’s go all the way, you and me, right the fuck now!”

With effort, Stella manages to drag her hand off her dick and reach over to the drawer beside her bed. She fumbles out the lube and with it, her favorite toy, the big one that looks real. She opens the lube with one shaking hand and squirts a heap of it into her palm, not worrying about the mess or the embarrassing noises she knows she must be making.

“Finger yourself open,” Tony is saying in her ear, voice so very hot and so very eager. Stella does what he asks, sets the toy on her naked stomach and brings her fingers down. She shoves two in at once and groans at the feel of it, the stretch. She doesn’t waste time being nice about it, though, just shoves them in and starts to scissor, the way she imagines Tony would if he were here right now. 

“Would you be rough?” she asks, desperate even to her own ears. 

“Wouldn’t be able to help myself,” he answers immediately. “I want inside you so bad, you have no idea, just wanna fuck into you, open you up on my dick, inch by fucking inch. Want you to scream for me, want you to writhe on my cock and scream for it!”

Stella whimpers, high and frantic. She’s not open near enough, but she pulls her fingers out anyway and grabs the toy. Her fingers are slick, but she keeps her hold, positions the toy and shoves it carelessly inside. It absolutely tears her apart and she groans, lower than she should and louder than she wants, but she doesn’t care, because it feels so good and she wants more. 

“You’re fucking yourself, aren’t you?” Tony asks quickly. “You’re fucking your little ass right open with a dildo. Tell me, tell me what it’s like.”

“Full,” Stella manages. “Stretched. But cold. You’d be better. You’d be hot.”

She’s barely adjusted, but she pulls the toy out and slams it back in with all the force she can manage in the position. If it were Tony, she knows, he’d have better leverage, could fuck into her harder and deeper and he’d be everywhere, all over her and in her and pinning her to the bed and keeping her on the edge of everything. 

It doesn’t take long, not with the toy inside her and Tony in her ear, telling her about how good it would feel inside her, how hot and how tight and how she’d moan for it and squirm for it and want it again and again for the rest of forever. “Tony,” she manages, and she can feel herself going over the edge. “Tony, please…” and she hears him make a sound somewhere between a grunt and a moan and then she comes.

Afterward, there’s only the sound of breathing again, his and hers all mixed together. She pulls the toy out slowly and carefully and it stings the tiniest bit, but she ignores it as she sets the thing aside. Then she wipes off her hands and reaches for the phone, wanting to be closer than speaker phone will let them.

“Well,” Tony says after a minute or so. “That was pretty awesome. I’m glad you’re quiet, though, when you’re getting off. I hate when the girls I’m with are just like, ridiculously over the top with their sex noises.”

Stella laughs slightly, because that’s one thing, at least, that she can do for him sexually, one thing he can get from her and not from some of those other girls with real girl parts. “I had fun, too,” she says, and makes herself ask something she’s been wondering in the back of her mind since the first time they did this. “Tony, what are we doing? Is this, are we together, or are we just having fun, or what? Are you seeing other people?”

Tony’s silent for a long, worrying moment, then he clears his throat and says, “Look. I hate, absolutely hate being straight with people. It’s better for me to keep them guessing, fake them out if I can. But you, you’re special Stella and I swear up and down I’m not playing with you. I don’t know what this means and maybe I’ll never know, but I like you. I wanna keep having sex with you and I wanna have dinner when I get back and I hope you’re not backing out now, because I already made the reservations. Well, I mean, my PA did, but that’s pretty much the same thing. The point is, the reservations are made and I really wanna see you there, preferably in something slinky. I don’t take just any girl to Angelo’s, you know?”

Stella doesn’t know whether it’s his words or the sex, but she glows the rest of the day.

 

Stella’s still glowing on Monday morning when she gets her mail from the office. She knows this for a fact, because Darcy looks at her like she’s an alien and says, “Are you humming?”

“Maybe,” Stella says after a moment of thought. If she was, she hadn’t been aware of it, but it’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility. “Possibly.”

“My God, Stel,” Darcy says, shaking her head in despair. “I don’t know how you got that sex glow without actually having sex, but whatever you’re taking, I want some.”

“I’m not taking anything,” Stella replies indignantly. “I just had a wonderful conversation with Tony on Saturday.”

“A conversation,” Darcy repeats skeptically. “No way a conversation made you this happy. Unless… holy shit, Stella! Did you guys have phone sex?”

It’s actually very impressive that Darcy is able to tell that about her just from a glow, but it also says something disturbing about Darcy’s experience level in all things sexual. And also, Stella’s not going to give her the satisfaction of gossiping about her sex life. She so rarely has secrets (apart from the big one that runs her life), and she’s going to hold on to this advantage for as long as she can.

“You,” she says primly, looking pointedly at Darcy’s cleavage practically popping out of her sweater, “are a slut. Good girls don’t kiss and tell.”

Darcy grins playfully. “So there is something to tell, huh?” When Stella says nothing, Darcy continues, “You better watch yourself, girl. I’m gonna get this out of you. One of these nights we’re gonna have girls’ night at my place and then I’ll get all your secrets out of you.”  
Probably not, Stella thinks, but all she says is a cheeky, “We’ll see,” and walks away, mail under her arm.

 

Wanda’s already in the classroom when Stella gets there, at her desk and ready to start the day. She stands when she sees Stella and waves, still a bit awkward, but her smile is warm enough. “Hello,” she says.

“Hi, Wanda,” Stella replies happily. “How was your weekend?”

“Too quick,” Wanda replies, a cliché but Stella smiles kindly. “Pietro and I had day out on Saturday. We went to the zoo and then had a nice lunch afterward.”

“Pietro is your boyfriend?” Stella asks. Wanda’s mentioned him once or twice before in passing, but the girl doesn’t wear a ring, so he’s probably not her husband.

“Oh, no,” she says quickly. “He’s my brother. My twin, actually. We grew up rather… difficult, so he and I are quite close. There’s no boyfriend in the picture, but it doesn’t matter; Pietro will take care of me.”

“That’s sweet of him,” Stella says and she genuinely thinks so. She never had any siblings, just Peggy, who was like the sister she never had, but it does sound nice.

“How about you?” Wanda asks politely.

“My weekend was pretty great, too,” she says. “My boyfriend’s in Tokyo on a business trip, but he called on Saturday and we had a nice chat.” She’s never gotten to say those words before, ‘my boyfriend,’ and they feel fantastic. “And on Sunday, I finished all the grading I’ve been putting off. Oh, and before I forget, I’ve got that outline for your Science unit.”

She sets her bag down on the desk and starts to leaf through the papers inside, until she finds the one she wants, the only typed paper in a sea of childish writing and scratch-and-sniff stickers. She pulls it out triumphantly and sets it down on Wanda’s desk. 

“Here we go,” she says happily. It’s pretty straight-forward, but she figures she’d better explain it anyway. “The unit needs to last two weeks,” she starts. “But since we only have science on Tuesdays and Thursdays, that shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll need two activities for every class, but they can be extremely informal, like a group discussion or even a song, if you’d like, as long as it’s relevant. If you find a book you like, we can probably incorporate it into Reading class if you give me warning. Apart from that, it’s pretty much up to you what you do with them, since the curriculum is pretty flexible at this level. At the end of the unit, you’ll need to do a test with them, something we can grade with more than just a sticker and a good job, so just remember that when you’re planning and it should all work out. 

“If you could have your plans done by Friday, that would be great, then I can look them over real quick and get them back to you by the end of the day. After this unit is done, we’ll get together during lunch or something and talk about how we both think it meant and at that point, I’ll decide which units I want you to have for the three weeks left of your placement here. I was thinking either two or three, depending, but we’ll see. Any questions?”

“Not just now,” Wanda says, and Stella smiles. Excellent. 

“Fantastic,” she says happily, just as the first of the kids start to stream into the room. “If you think of any, just let me know. That’s what I’m here for. Now, you’d better psych yourself up, because you’ve got morning duties today.” 

And Stella, she’ll be supervising, of course, but that won’t take all of her attention. Since she’s got the time, she might as well text her boyfriend. It’s going to be a good day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’ll admit it, I cried writing this chapter. Don’t worry, that’s not a reflection of the tone of the chapter, but more of my inability to handle sad children’s books, which are mentioned for like one whole paragraph. Brief spoilers for Charlotte’s Web, even though I don’t think there’s anyone out there who hasn’t seen and or read it.  
> The other thing is, I describe Stella putting makeup on here. Now, I don’t actually wear makeup. Like, at all. Like, ever. And even if I did, I already have a female face, so I wouldn’t have any need to know how to do MtF makeup. Basically what I did here was a fuckton of research and hoped for the best, pretty much the same way I do with everything I’m not personally familiar with in my fics. (And I also listened to “[Andrew in Drag](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf_l3EGQvL8)” like twenty times for moral support lol) So if this is a total fail, please let me know :)  
> And also, I lied about the size of this fic again, apparently. Whatever, I’m done restricting myself. If it wants to be over 30k, it can go ahead and do that, I won’t protest.

By lunchtime on Tuesday, Stella’s so excited for her big date that she’s practically a bouncing ball of nervous energy. She paced all morning, couldn’t sit still, and even though her kids are all much too self-absorbed (as children tend to be) to notice anything, Wanda’s been giving her strange looks all morning. 

“Are you okay?” she finally asks as they sit down with Jane and Darcy in the teacher’s lounge. “You’ve been rather… fidgety this morning.”

“Fidgety?” Darcy repeats, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “And yesterday you were humming. Something’s going on with you girl, and you’d better spill.”

Stella laughs giddily. “It’s nothing,” she insists. “I just have a date tonight. Tony’s taking me to dinner.”

As Darcy cackles in manic glee, Jane just shakes her head in amazement. “I still can’t believe you’ve been seeing the Tony Stark.”

It’s pretty unbelievable, Stella will admit, but it’s totally true nonetheless. And even though they haven’t known each other that long (thirteen days, one encounter in a club, three phone calls, one coffee date and 387 texts, total), Stella really has started to forget that he’s the Tony Stark, genius playboy inventor, and not just Tony, that weirdo she wants to spend more time with.

“He’s not really like that,” she says after a moment. “Not how they make him seem in the tabloids.”

“What, a jerk?” Darcy asks, still grinning.

“Well,” Stella hesitates. “I wouldn’t say he’s a jerk, necessarily. Rude, sure, but he can be sweet. And I think he really likes me, you know?”

“I’m glad,” Jane says sincerely, the sweetest of the lot of them. “Where’s he taking you?”

“And do you have your underwear picked out already?” Darcy adds quickly.

“An Italian place called Angelo’s,” she tells Jane. “He promised me it wasn’t too fancy, so I shouldn’t embarrass myself horribly or anything.” To Darcy, she says firmly, “No, I haven’t. Though he did tell me to wear something slinky.” She grins goofily, can’t help it. 

“Do you even own anything slinky?” Darcy fires back. She gives Stella a once-over and grins. “Girl, you’re fashionable, but I’ve never seen you wear anything that’s even in the same ballpark as slinky.”

As a matter of fact, Stella doesn’t have anything that would qualify as slinky, but she does have a nice little black dress that will probably work. And the best part is, it’s got sleeves, which means she can just wear one of her bras with the breast forms built in instead of using the adhesive tape to put the forms on by themselves, which is a pain to do and always makes her extremely nervous the entire time she’s out that the tape will fail and she’ll make a fool of herself. The dress she has in mind, though, that won’t be a problem. 

“I’ll figure something out,” she says.

“Well don’t forget the importance of nice panties,” Darcy says, and oh yes, they’re back to that. “I know you’ve probably never had a guy laugh at you for period stains or ripped elastic, but I have. Recently, in fact, and that circus freak was a total dick about it.”

“He’s not going to be seeing my panties,” Stella insists at the same time Jane says, “Wait, you slept with Clint?”  
Darcy grins, wide and shark-like, and holds up her ring and middle finger in the bunny-ears formation that’s the universal symbol for ‘twice.’

“Who’s Clint?” Wanda asks, joining the conversation again at last. 

“Yes, Darcy,” Stella says, giving her friend the eye. “Who is Clint?”

“You know,” Darcy says, waving her hand dismissively. “He’s that guy from the club that night, the one I almost went home with but instead I puked on my shoes and my very good friend Stella let the vomit stay on them all night and I had to throw them away.”

Stella ducks her head in shame. She broke the Bro Code that night and she knows it. She’d offer to pay for a new pair just like it, but to be honest, she always did think those shoes were terribly ugly. But on the other hand, she did make Darcy drink lots of water before she fell asleep, so they’re probably even on that score.

“But I thought you turned him down,” she says after the appropriate moment of silence in mourning for the shoes.

“I thought so, too, but apparently I was going crazy with giving people’s numbers out that night and one of them happened to be mine. He called me a few days later and we hooked up on my fire escape.”

“Your fire escape?” Wanda repeats disbelievingly. She clearly doesn’t know Darcy well enough to know this sort of wildly inappropriate behavior is scarily typical. “Why not the bed?”

“He has a thing for heights apparently,” Darcy says like it’s all the same to her. “Really gets off on them.”

“You know,” Jane says suddenly, eyes speculative, “Thor has a kink sort of like that. He always tries to drag me up to the roof of his building so he can see the stars when he comes. And you know, sometimes he channels Nathan Fillion and calls his dick ‘his hammer.’”

They all laugh, even Wanda, and some of the older teachers shoot the group of them odd looks, as if they’re somehow after years of it not used to this table being full of horrible gossips. When they all manage to stop giggling, Jane and Darcy eye Stella expectantly and Stella knows it’s her turn to share a sex secret. The problem is, she doesn’t really have any, except for the ones on her end, and she’s just not ready to spill that, not in a crowded teacher’s lounge on a Tuesday afternoon. She’ll tell them eventually, she will, but now isn’t the time.

At last she just shrugs. “Well, I haven’t actually had sex with him, but from what I can tell from our phone calls, Tony’s actually very sexually normal. Obviously I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I always get the impression the thing he wants most out of our conversations is for me to enjoy myself.”

There’s a long appalled silence, then Wanda says, “That’s very sweet of him.”

Jane nods and even Darcy looks vaguely approving. Stella beams. She’s won this round and more importantly, all of her friends are happy.

 

After lunch, Stella has Wanda read to the kids for Story Time. They just finished Did You Carry the Flag Today, Charley? and they’re set to do the tie-in experiment with homemade soap during Science at the end of the day, which means Wanda gets the opportunity to pick out the next book. She picks Charlotte’s Web, which is age-appropriate, and classic literature, and also going to tear her kids’ hearts apart. Stella couldn’t turn it down, not when it even has a convenient film version as a tie-in, but she’s honestly not sure she can bear to watch as the kids get attached to a spider that’s going to die in the end. She can’t help but recall the disaster in her first year of teaching, when she decided they needed a break between longer books and picked up Nana Upstairs, Nana Downstairs, which she vaguely recalled being fond of as a child. Needless to say, she should have at least read it through before she read it aloud to her first graders, who were all devastated for the rest of the day. Their faces had been so sad that Stella had gone home and cried, and after that, she vowed only to read happy books to her kids. She’d had to do some serious damage control after that day and she thinks she will after this book, too. She might even have to break out the Sideways Stories From Wayside School, and as every elementary school teacher knows, that book means serious business, like crack for kiddies. 

When Story Time is over, they have Math class. They’ve just started on a unit about money. They’re doing coin values just now, along with the help of the twenty or so toy money kits Stella went out and bought herself two years ago after the school board refused to put up real money for it and returned her requisition form unfulfilled. They’re just identifying coins for now, but soon they’ll move on to counting and Stella’s got a few fantastic worksheets for that, too. After they get through counting, it’ll be adding and subtracting. After the kids have all that down in about a month or so, Stella will give them a treat and test their money skills at the same time by setting up a little store one day in class where they’ll be able to buy new colorful erasers, scratch-and-sniff stickers, pieces of candy and other things like that with the play money. It’ll be a lesson in budgeting, as well, and Stella can’t wait. 

It’s no secret to any of them that her favorite days are the ones they do activities. The highlight of today, of course, is the date tonight, but she’s also very excited for their soap activity at the end of the day during Science. She goes back and forth being excited about the two things all of recess and then it’s Science time at last.

Strictly speaking, the soap homemade soap they’re making isn’t anything at all like the type Charley uses in the book. Even more strictly speaking, the homemade soap they’re making isn’t homemade at all. It’s actually just grated soap bits that Stella melts and mixes with water in a big pot over an electric skillet while Wanda keeps the kids back at a safe distance. When the soap is melted, Stella carefully pours the mixture into two fifteen-slot candy molds. Then it’s time for the kids to help. They each pick a single mold, pour in a few drops of food coloring and a few drops of perfume and stir. It’s a slow process, since the kids have to take turns, but at the end, everyone is happy and pleased with their work. They’re a bit disappointed when Stella explains they have to wait for the soap to harden and won’t be able to try it out until Friday, but that’s only because they don’t know that sometimes you have to wait for good things and sometimes, that makes them even better.

After the craft mess is all cleaned up, it’s almost time for the bell to ring. Stella leaves Wanda to direct the kids in getting their coats on and gathering up their backpacks and lunch boxes. She lets her take them down to the busses, too, and lets herself go over to her desk and grab her phone.

‘Are we still on for tonight?’ she text Tony.

The reply she gets is, well, rather odd, to say the least. It reads, ‘Tony is grounded from his phone for the afternoon, but you have my personal assurances that he will be at your door relatively on time and even freshly showered – Pepper Potts’

Stella stares at the message, confused. Pepper, she knows from Tony’s many work-related messages, is Tony’s PA, which apparently is a position that falls somewhere between slave and babysitter. Rich people are confusing, Stella’s always thought so. Still, she and Tony are still on for their date, so that’s good news. She didn’t think Tony would purposefully ditch her, but he is a busy man. Their relationship so far tends to work on her time table, texting during special classes and talking after school is over, but that doesn’t mean Tony doesn’t have important things he needs to attend to.

Of course, it’s entirely possible that Stella is overthinking this. Now that school’s over and she has about twenty-five less little distractions running around, she has more time to feel nervous about tonight. It is only their second date, after all, and their first one that isn’t coffee. What if they run out of things to talk about? What if he gets to know her a little better and decides she’s too boring or too shy or too plain-looking. Or worst of all, what if he takes one look at her in her dress and realizes her secret? What would he do then? Would he laugh? Would he just get up and leave?

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks carefully and Stella looks up at her sharply.

“Fine,” she says and puts on a smile. “Just nervous about my date tonight. I don’t have much experience. Do you go on many dates?”

“Oh hardly ever,” Wanda says. “I always pick the bad ones and then have to come home crying to Pietro. That’s one of the reasons he doesn’t like me to date: he doesn’t like seeing me hurt. But I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

“Thanks,” Stella says, smiling for real now. “That means a lot.” And it does. She doesn’t know Wanda well, but for someone as obviously awkward as her, compliments really count. Stella tries to take it to heart. It’s going to go fine, she tells herself. Everything will be great.

 

The first thing Stella does when she gets home is strip and draw herself a bath. A bubble bath, to be precise, because she wants to feel pretty tonight and women around the world know nothing helps with that quite like soaking in bubbles. She listens to music while she soaks, not pop music like she usually defaults to after hanging out with Darcy for so long, but instead, she goes back to her roots and plays some Peggy Lee and Vera Lynn like her mother used to listen to. Now those were women, the kind Stella grew up wishing she could be. Actually, a few people have told her before that she looks a bit like Vera Lynn. It’s probably the nose, though, so that’s not necessarily a good thing.

After the bath, Stella moisturizes all over, then checks her beard shadow and body hair. She shaved everything this morning, like she does every day, and her hair doesn’t grow especially fast, so she figures it would probably do more harm than good to shave again. Instead, she just heads to her dresser, where she pulls on panties, a panty girdle to smooth down her boy-parts and give her curves. On ordinary days, she doesn’t bother with the girdle, just relies on the cut of the clothes, always flouncy and high-waisted, to make her look good, but tonight’s special. Next she puts on a pair of nude pantyhose, absolutely necessary in October, even if it’s one more thing that’ll make going to the bathroom a bit of a hassle. 

For breasts, Stella pulls on a bra with built in breast forms. If the dress were strapless or backless at all, she’d have to tape the breast forms on and forget the bra altogether, but this dress will won’t even give a hint of the bra underneath. The dress itself is black, with a thick and high waist-line and a medium-low cut neck and a hemline that comes down just past her knees. It’s the perfect style to make her look like she’s got curves and that, combined with her other tricks, will really make her look spectacular.

The first step to making that happen is the make-up. She starts with beige lip liner to shorten the distance between her nose and lips and make them look fuller, as well as adding color. After that it’s concealer in the hollow areas under her eyes and over the beard shadow, which is almost invisible on its own anyway, but better safe than sorry. She then applies white highlight to key areas of her face: between the brows and along the center of the nose to minimize the brow ridge, along the cheekbones to bring them forward and draw attention, against the nose to hide the sallowness, and below the lips to balance it all out.

Matte powder goes on that. She uses a color that’s slightly tanner than her natural skin tone, and uses it to map along her hairline, under her cheekbones, and blow her jawline, where she blends it into the skin of her neck. Then, she uses foundation in her actual skin tone to blend all the color together and make it look natural on her face. Powder makes it set and a light brown brow liner enhances and defines the arches of her eyebrows. After that it’s just a matter of putting on some beige eye shadow and black mascara for her eyes. For school, she usually just puts on some pink lip gloss, hardly noticeable, but since tonight is a special occasion, she finally breaks out the Smoky 245 CoverGirl lipstick she’s been saving. All this only takes her twenty minutes or so with her practiced hand. When the makeup’s on, she also takes the time to curl her hair, because if she’s going to be Vera Lynn, she might as well go all the way. 

She chooses her perfume carefully. For normal days, she wears a green scent, because she read somewhere that those boost mood and put people at ease, which can only be a good thing. Tonight, though, like with the lipstick, she’s got something special in mind, a bottle of Stella by Stella McCartney. It was a gift from Peggy last Christmas and it’s a flowery-type scent, which is apparently the type of scent you’re supposed to wear on romantic occasions. With any luck at all, tonight will be that type of occasion. 

She’s almost ready then, just has to dig her black dress coat out of the hall closet and slip on her black pumps, rounded to make her feet look smaller and with cute little bows on top, just because. She doesn’t put those things on yet, though, because a glance at the clock tells her it’s only 5:30 and Tony isn’t picking her up for another hour. She’s got two choices while she’s waiting: pace, fret and generally drive herself mad with worry, or grab her romance novel out of her bag and find out how mermaids reproduce. She chooses the latter, because Tony had wanted to know the answer to that question, anyhow.

 

  
[](http://tinypic.com?ref=rs4is0)   


 

When the intercom by the door finally buzzes, it’s 6:39 and Stella’s on the final chapter in her book (though she’s no less confused about how exactly mermaids have sex, because the mermaid in question turned into a human woman before any of the sexy bits happened). Still, last chapter or not, Stella throws her book aside in a hurry and rushes over to the door. 

It’s not that she doesn’t want Tony to come up and see her apartment; all her conspicuous items are safely hidden away, so that won’t matter. She is rather eager to get going, though, so she doesn’t invite him up, just tells him over the intercom that she’ll be right down, slips on her shoes and jacket and grabs her purse. She locks the door behind her as she heads out and takes the steps down four floors, where she finds Tony staring quizzically at the poster of Jackie Loughery in one of the windows of the bodega.

He doesn’t look up at first when she steps up next to him. “Bit outdated, this,” he says.

“Hometown pride,” Stella explains. “You can’t do better than the first ever Miss USA being from Brooklyn.”

“I guess that’s legit,” Tony says, and he looks up at her at last. “Wow,” he says, eyes raking down her body. “You look, wow, I mean, you’re fucking gorgeous, Stella. I thought you couldn’t look better than you did that night we met at the club, but clearly I’ve been operating under false assumptions. Is it totally going to mess up your lipstick or something if I kiss you? I know you’re supposed to wait until after the date for that kind of thing, but I’m not a big fan of waiting.”

Stella blushes, pleased. “It probably will,” she admits. “But I have my lipstick in my purse, anyway.”

“Fantastic,” Tony says, wetting his lips. He steps up to her, cups her face lightly in his hands, and brushes their lips together. Stella holds stock still, scared to even breathe, but Tony doesn’t seem to notice. He pulls back but doesn’t go far, obviously regrouping for the next attack. When his lips touch Stella’s again, it’s not a chaste kiss like the first had been. No, this kiss is deep and wet and hot, and their noses bump together just the slightest bit at the end. 

When Tony pulls back, his lips are shiny and red and Stella knows hers must be, too. She’ll have to fix it, reapply her lipstick, but first she’s going to take time to bask in what just happened. It wasn’t her first kiss, but it was the first she’s ever had with a man she’s in a relationship with, and it was fantastic. She can practically feel herself glowing and can only imagine what Darcy would say if she could see. 

“Well,” Tony says after a second, grinning like he’s pleased with himself. “Should we go?”

He leads her to his car, which is parked illegally in front of the building, since parking regulations are apparently something that don’t apply to the rich. It’s a nice car, a flashy red Audi that Stella will admit she finds sexy, even if she never, ever wants to find out how much it cost. Tony opens the door for her, which is sweet and also unnecessary, since Stella has opposable thumbs, but it shows her he’s paying attention and wants to impress her, so she lets it go. 

One thing she can’t let go of is Tony’s driving. “Please slow down,” she says through gritted teeth, hand gripping the handle on the door so tightly her knuckles turn white. 

“What’s the matter?” Tony asks, taking his eyes off the road for a terrifyingly long second. “Scared of a little speed?”

As a matter of fact, Stella is not scared of speed. In the appropriate setting, an empty highway, for example, she’ll be the first to push the pedal to the metal. She just doesn’t want to die, is all, and the way Tony’s zipping between traffic and cutting off other cars has her life flashing before her eyes. She should have been nicer to that three-legged cat on her fire escape, she thinks dully through her terror. She should have made time to visit her mother more often. She should have gone all the way with a guy. She should have told Jane and Darcy the truth about herself.

“Hey, Stella?” Tony says tentatively after a while, and Stella opens one of her eyes, not sure when she’d scrunched them shut. They’re not moving, she realizes. “We’re here. Are you okay?”

It takes Stella a second to will her fingers to let go of her door handle and then she has to flex them a few times to get the feeling back. Then she looks back up at Tony, at his sexy dark eyes and his concerned expression. “Fine,” she says, and he relaxes. “But I’m driving on the way back. That’s non-negotiable. You’ve lost your driving privileges.”

“Lost my driving privileges?” Tony asks incredulously. “Next you’ll be telling me I’ve got detention after school.”

“Lost recess time, actually,” Stella corrects. “And I might make you stand outside in the hall during Story Time.”

“Jesus,” Tony says quietly, looking at her with an expression somewhere between awe and terror. “You’re a slave-driver.”

Stella straightens her back and tilts her face up haughtily. “I,” she says loftily, “am an ed-u-cat-or.” She draws the last word out into four separate words and she keeps a straight-face while she does it, which is more than she can say for Tony, who cracks up. 

“You’re adorable,” he tells her, leaning over the center console to kiss her lightly. When he pulls back, he flashes her a grin. “But you’re not driving my car.”

“We’ll see,” Stella says, and they will.

 

Stella proves herself perfectly capable and independent by opening her own door and shutting it again the same way, without hurting herself or anything, but she lets Tony take guide her down the sidewalk with one hand on the small of her back, so it’s a compromise. She also lets him hold the door of the restaurant for her. It’s a small place, not too flashy, and it’s a hassled-looking hostess that seats them, not a maitre d’, so Stella knows Tony was telling the truth about the relative swankiness of the place. 

They don’t speak much at first once they’re seated, Stella busy reading with the menu and Tony presumably doing the same. It all looks very good and Stella hasn’t eaten since eleven this morning, but she knows Tony’s going to insist on paying, and Stella has a healthy respect for money, even when it belongs to a billionaire, so she orders pasta in white sauce, which is relatively cheap. Tony rolls his eyes when she orders, clearly very aware of her reasoning even without her saying anything, but he gets a pasta dish, too. He also orders crab cakes and stuffed mushrooms as appetizers, and tells the waitress to bring something called, “Pinot Grigio, Santa Margherita,” which Stella doesn’t realize is wine until it arrives at their table a few minutes later. 

“Just leave the bottle,” Tony tells the waitress when she goes to pour the first glass for them. To Stella, he says conversationally, “My father would have a coronary if someone asked him to drink this cheap stuff. He was seriously pissed when he found out I was drinking Vladimir vodka my freshman year of college. Not even because I was only fourteen, either, but just because I was drinking the cheapest stuff on the market. Drinking the equivalent to rubbing alcohol is beneath us, apparently, but underage drinking is suitably upper class.” He grabs the bottle and reaches for Stella’s glass, but Stella stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“I don’t drink,” she says quickly. 

Tony looks shocked. “Not at all?” he asks, eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“Not at all,” Stella confirms. She’d only tried it once, in her freshman year of college with Peggy by her side. She’s a lightweight, of course, she’d known she would be, but she hadn’t expected the way the alcohol made her so dizzy and fuzzy, or the way she’d said terrible hurtful things to Peggy and made her cry. The next day had been hell, too, but once she’d managed to crawl away from the toilet well after noon, she’d apologized to Peggy and vowed never to drink again. It just wasn’t worth it. 

“Huh,” Tony says, clearly still stumped. Apparently teetotalers were things that just didn’t happen in his world. “Well, that’s a new one, I’ll give you that. Do you mind if I…” he trails off, nodding meaningfully at the bottle. 

“Not at all,” Stella says, waving her hand freely. 

Tony pours the wine into his own glass, though Stella notices he doesn’t fill it even halfway full. “I don’t really drink that often, either,” he says, setting the bottle back down. “Not anymore. I used to be a complete train wreck, out every night sleeping around and getting blitzed. Now, though, it’s just kind of a drink-here, drink-there kind of thing, a beer with the guys, a few girly cocktails at the club, wine with dinner. And Blood Marys with business brunches, of course, because not even a saint could sit through that shit completely sober.”

Stella laughs, because Tony has such a way with words. “What changed?” she asks. In her experience, people generally don’t go from sixty to zero without reason.

“You know that epiphany I told you about?” Tony asks casually. Stella nods. “Well, when I saw the light or whatever, it wasn’t just about the weapons.” He pauses, as though considering his words, then continues in a quiet voice, “You’ve probably never felt like someone’s creation, but I have. And then one day something happened to me, and I decided I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes he did.”

Stella doesn’t understand, not completely, but she understands he’s letting her in, letting her see things not many other people ever get to. She reaches out and touches his hand. “I’ve always thought you are what you make of yourself,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “If you want to be something, no one can stop you, not if you really put everything you’ve got into it.”

“Yeah,” Tony says thickly. He takes a sip of his wine and when he brings the glass down, he’s smiling again. “Well,” he says brightly. “That got real deep, real fast. Let’s backtrack a bit, huh? Anything cool happen in class today?”

“It did, actually,” Stella says, pleased as always to be asked. She tells him about the Science experiment and about how much the kids had loved getting to pick out their own scents and colors for the soap. She goes into rather more detail about each individual soap mold than strictly necessary, but Tony just smiles at her and listens, only fidgeting in his seat a tiny bit. “They were all pretty upset when I told them they couldn’t even try the soap out until Friday when it’s hardened,” she finishes. 

“That’s science for you,” Tony says, “One minute it’s giving you all the pleasure in the world and the next it’s telling you you’re going to have to wait days for satisfaction. That’s how you know Science is a woman.”

Stella laughs, but before Tony can say more, the waitress brings their appetizers. Tony very quickly gets distracted trying to convince Stella to eat crab cakes right from his fingers, which is exactly the kind of thing they do in romance novels that just doesn’t work out in real life. It might be different if they were at home, alone and eating grapes or something, but with crab cakes, it’s just gross. And anyway, people are starting to stare.

“You’d better get your hand out of my face, Stark,” she says, holding up her fork threateningly. She wouldn’t really stab him, but he relents anyway, pulls his hand back and eats the bit of crab cake himself.

“Fine, fine,” he says, wiping his fingers off on his cloth napkin. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’m not expert, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to limit your romantic food activities to fruit only.”

“Well of course you’d say that,” Tony says, play-exasperated. “You’re a teacher! I bet you have a not-so-secret apple kink. It gets you all hot and bothered every time one of those little brown-nosers brings you a Granny Smith, doesn’t it? Come on, Stel, admit it.”

“I prefer Red Delicious,” Stella tells him, not deigning to respond to his ridiculous accusations. 

“Those are a classic,” Tony agrees, shrugging. “I like Fuji best, myself. I do love the sweet ones.” The way he’s looking at her, meeting her eyes head-on and a little half smile like he can’t help himself, makes Stella think they’re not just talking about apples, anymore. 

She swallows, suddenly nervous and unsure what to say. Thankfully, the waitress chooses that moment to bring their meals. The clattering of plates and questions about whether they need anything else breaks the mood and by the time the girl leaves, Tony’s got his normal grin back on. 

“I guess you’re not up for a Lady and the Tramp scene, huh?”

Stella just laughs and shakes her head. Tony, she thinks, is exactly like Red Delicious apple: crunchy the whole way through, but sweet enough on the inside that you can’t help but falling in love with every bite. 

 

They talk about light things during the main course. Stella tells Tony all about Jane and Darcy, and the plans she has to bring Wanda out of her shell. Tony, in turn, talks about his PA Pepper and his favorite Department Head Bruce Banner, and all the times the two have to team up to stop Tony from doing dangerous and sometimes idiotic things. It’s not deep conversation, but it’s exactly what Stella needs, and she thinks Tony somehow senses that. Besides, Stella does like getting to know Tony like this, learning the small things about him and his life. And he seems equally as interested in her, even her silly little girly stories about shoe shopping and things. 

When the waitress comes back with the check after they’re finished, Tony snatches it up before Stella can even try for it. When he sees the indignant look on her face, he grins cheekily. “I can think of a way you can pay your share,” he teases.

Stella blushes, but only a bit. A few more dates with Tony and she might just lose her blush reflex entirely. “I’ll pay next time,” she says firmly. She might not be able to afford the kinds of places he’s used to, but he proved tonight he was perfectly willing to slum it with her. Actually, that gives her an idea. “We could get lunch next time you’re free,” she says, the perfect place in mind. The girls won’t mind if she ditches them for one day. After all, Darcy does it all the time.

“Sure,” he says, pulling out his credit card and handing it to the waitress. “Just, uh, gimme a day or so to check my schedule. Pepper takes this perverse pleasure in scheduling business meetings over lunch. Lemme tell you, nothing, not even a business brunch, is worse than a working lunch.”

He goes on to describe his hatred for working lunches in excruciating detail, from the mayonnaise dropped on blueprints to the spinach in the dentures of half the old men at the table. Stella listens and is glad all over again that she doesn’t actually have to eat with her kids. Those cafeteria monitors deserve hazard pay and that’s a fact.

 

Tony does, in fact, let Stella drive his car back to her place. She has to take off her heels to do it (she’s good but she’s not that good), but Tony offers to hold them. She notices out of the corner of her eye that he keeps caressing the bows on the tops of the shoes, which is either unbearably odd or extremely endearing, Stella can’t decide. The important thing is, they make it back to Stella’s apartment in one piece and without violating any traffic laws. 

“Well,” Stella says once they’re parked. She clears her throat awkwardly. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” Tony says. He doesn’t wait for her answer, just leans in and does it. 

Stella realizes quickly that the kiss on the street earlier was just a preview of what was to come. This kiss is everything and nothing like that one. It’s hot and wet like that one, but this time his tongue goes in her mouth and does some very dirty things to her tongue and teeth. It’s the first time she’s ever Frenched anyone, but she figures, why not, and goes about getting her tongue into his mouth a bit, too. He tastes like the mints the waitress brought with the bill and also like the wine he was drinking. It’s not bad, not bad at all. Actually, it’s the best kiss she’s ever had and it only gets better when he pulls his mouth away from hers to attack her neck, where he kisses and sucks, while his hands play with her hair and cup the back of her head.

They end up making out in Tony’s car like silly teenagers for almost ten minutes before Tony’s hands start to wander. He doesn’t do it on purpose, she thinks, but she can’t take risk of him actually feeling her up. Her breasts feel real to the touch, but if he actually goes about getting to know them, he’s going to be in for a surprise real quick. Slowly, resignedly, she leans back.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “But it’s a school night. I should go. Thank you for dinner, though. I really had a great time.”

Tony leans forward and brushes one more kiss against her lips, then pulls away, looking decidedly pleased with himself. “Of course you did,” he says cockily. “I’m, like, a master dater.” He pauses, visibly swallows back what Stella would bet a year’s salary is a masturbation joke, then clears his throat. “Uh, anyway, yeah, let’s talk soon. Like, sexually. And also lunch. I’ll text you or something.”

“Goodnight, Tony,” Stella says. She gets out of the car and walks to her building. And yeah, if she sways her ass a little bit because she knows he’s watching her walk away, well, she’s only human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now with pictures of Stella's outfits in a few chapters, because I can't help myself


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Things get pretty gross this chapter in way that’s not entirely unexpected in a classroom, but might be unpleasant to read about. It’s only for a bit, though, and it gets taken care of fairly quickly. Specifics at bottom.
> 
> On an unrelated note, there needs to be sexytimes of some type in the next chapter. Hold me to that, and if I should fail to deliver, shun me.
> 
> *edited warning per the very reasonable request of a commenter at bottom, as well*

The rest of the week is one thing after another in a way Stella thinks might be karma for swishing her hips like that after her date. On Wednesday, she goes to school with high hopes and a bounce in her step, and the former helps her overcome the latter after she breaks a heel during Social Studies. The kids all laugh a bit when Stella limps over to her desk to fetch her spare shoes, but they stop pretty quickly once Stella threatens to replace recess today with an extra math class.

That’s only the beginning, though, because half-way through Language Arts, Stella hears a thumping noise from the back of the room, which turns out to be little Johnny Storm, hiding in the coat closet and playing with a bouncy ball. 

“Johnny!” Reed calls, voice exasperated, when Stella fishes the boy out from behind all the coats. “What are you doing here?”

“Good question,” Stella says mildly. She’s seen weirder and worse than this, but it’s not a usual occurrence, either. “Why aren’t you in class, Johnny?”

Predictably, Johnny doesn’t answer, just blows a raspberry at her, then one at Reed, who just sighs sadly, like he’s used to this kind of treatment.

“Miss Wanda,” Stella says, grabbing Johnny’s arm firmly so he can’t make a break for it. “Please watch the class while I take Johnny back to his room.”

Wanda obediently goes up to the front of the room and takes up where Stella had left off in the textbook, while Stella marches Johnny back to the Pre-K classroom and gives Miss Kate a piece of her mind. Kids are hard, Stella knows, but there’s just no excuse for losing one of them for half the morning. If Johnny were in her class (and he will be in a few years, Stella just knows it), she’d take away all of his recess for two days for this stunt. As it stands, though, that’s not her call. She leaves Miss Kate to it and goes back to her own class, where Wanda is handling the lesson well enough that Stella just lets her continue, pleased with the girl’s progress.

During Gym class a bit later, Stella takes the opportunity to text Tony about their lunch date. She doesn’t get a reply right away, but he had said he was busy this week, so she doesn’t sweat it, just sends Wanda to make copies of a worksheet for Math and reviews her lesson plans for the Science unit next week. The plans are good, with a nice mix of worksheets, activities, and lessons from the textbook. Stella approves them but decides to mention that the bulletin board could use an update, if Wanda were so inclined, since the family tree pictures have been up for a few weeks now.

It’s lunchtime before Stella gets an answer from Tony and she’s halfway through her Johnny Storm story when it happens. 

“He’s going to be a handful,” Jane says speculatively, while Darcy laughs. “He’ll only get worse as he gets older, I bet.”

“Yeah,” Stella says vaguely. She agrees wholeheartedly, but she’s distracted by her phone. Tony’s message is short but sweet: ‘In meetings til 5. Thinking of you. Call you later <3’

 

“Pepper’s on the warpath,” Tony says in a whisper as soon as Stella picks up.

“Are you okay?” Stella asks at once. She thinks she can screaming in the background and possibly a train. 

“Fine,” Tony assures her, still whispering. “Bad things are just going down with one of my contracts. Typical business stuff, but Pepper’s gonna have my balls in a jar if I don’t get it fixed soon. Probably not going to be able to have lunch this week like we planned.”

“What about next week?” Stella asks. She’s disappointed, but she knows he has responsibilities and it’s not like he’s blowing her off on purpose. “Maybe Monday?”

There’s a noise on Tony’s end like someone banging on a door close by and Tony says, “Crap, gotta go! Monday’s fine, great, whatever. I’ll pick you up at the school for your lunch period. Bye!”

He hangs up before Stella can get another word in, leaving Stella staring at the phone in her hand, slightly resigned but mostly just okay. She doesn’t begrudge Tony his emergencies or his job. He does good, she knows, provides jobs and makes the world a better place, one project at a time. And on a personal level, too, Stella can’t help but be charmed by him, even when he leaves her hanging. 

She should tell him the truth about herself, she knows. He deserves it and more than that, if Stella knows you can’t base a relationship on a lie. There’s nothing she can do about it this week, anyway, but soon, she’ll tell him. And if he leaves her after that, well, best not to think about that option. First, though, before she tells him, there are a few other people who deserve the truth, as well.

 

Thursday morning goes fairly well, for a given definition of well that involves her kids not wanting to sit still or quit talking during class. She only has to take five minutes away from recess before they start cooperating, though, so that’s something. They do Social Studies in the morning, then Reading, then Math, which is when the next calamity befalls Stella.

She notices about ten minutes into the lesson that Scott Summers isn’t looking his best. He seems a bit peaky, really, but Stella finishes handing out the worksheets before she goes over to him, wanting the other kids distracted before she talks to him.

“Hey, Scott,” she says, bending down to be more on his level. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little sick.”

Scott shakes his head, jaw working, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Do you need to go to the nurse?” Stella asks. 

Scott nods his head slowly. He stands shakily and Stella reaches out a hand to steady him, keep him from falling over. He looks at her, eyes wide and teeth clenched, and Stella sees what’s going to happen but can’t do anything to stop it. Because that, that is when he vomits. 

It goes everywhere. Seriously everywhere. It gets all down Stella’s dress, all over Scott’s desk, and all over the floor. Pretty much the only thing that escaped the disaster at all is Scott himself, who is untouched. Typical, Stella thinks, and stops breathing through her nose.

The class goes nuts, of course, everyone torn between horror and fascination and excited to talk about it with their neighbors. The nearest kids clear out of their desk right away without even asking first and go to stand on the other side of the room where the smell isn’t so bad. A few kids, notably Jan, who sits right in front of Scott, start to gag. Wanda, on the far side of the room, looks lost and terribly disgusted. Stella sighs and straightens up.

“Okay,” she says calmly, still not breathing through her mouth. “That’s enough. Everyone calm down and take a step back. In fact, why don’t we all go to the story corner and sit down. Jean, will you go with Scott to the nurse’s office? Come right back after. I’ll call her and let her know you’re coming.”

Jean obediently takes Scott’s hand and leads him, still dazed, toward the door. The other kids pick their way around the puddle on the floor and go to the back. Wanda doesn’t move at all, just staring with her mouth moving like she might puke, too. 

Stella goes to her, carefully to stand far enough back not to encourage any more vomiting. “You have to watch them,” she says quietly. “Get out the math flash cards and have them take turns.” She waits until Wanda nods slowly before moving away, over to the phone in the corner of the room by the door, where she calls the nurse and then the janitor, who grumbles but promises to come clean up right away. 

Careful not to drip or brush up against anything, Stella gathers the set of spare clothes she keeps in the closet for emergencies and, with one last look to make sure Wanda has everything under control, leaves the room. She goes to the teacher’s lounge, because there’s a bathroom there where she won’t be disturbed. She locks the door behind her and strips out of her clothes, nearly gagging as she does it. A whore’s bath in the sink has to do and the clothes go in a Walmart bag, which she ties shut with a relieved sigh. 

Even after she’s changed her clothes and ditched the old ones, Stella’s still convinced she can smell it, so she takes the time to go down to the main office. Darcy laughs at her story, but she also lets her borrow some perfume, which seems to be in the scent, ‘Total Whore.’ 

“This smells like a brothel,” Stella coughs after she’s already sprayed it on.

Darcy just nods, like she couldn’t possible see why Stella might have a problem with that. “Beggars can’t be choosers, hon,” she says, shrugging.

Stella sighs. At least the smell of vomit is gone. “Thanks, Darcy,” she says and goes back to her classroom for what will undoubtedly be an eventful rest of the day.

 

On Friday, someone throws a rock through Stella’s classroom window right as the kids are lining up to go to computer class. The kids scream and scatter, even though the rock had landed on the other side of the room. Stella pauses, twitches violently, and then gets the kids back in line. None of them are hurt when she asks, so Stella lets Wanda lead them away while she herself goes and bangs her head on the wall. 

She does that for a few minutes, then she calls Coulson. “I quit,” she says first thing. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m done.”

Coulson sighs. “You weren’t always this dramatic, Rogers,” he says dully. “What happened?”

“Someone just threw a rock through my window!” Stella says with righteous indignation. “Some pre-teen in a red mask with black eye-holes just came up to my window and threw a rock through it!”

“I know the very pre-teen,” Coulson says wearily. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. I’ll have the janitor come clean up the glass. Until then, sit tight and don’t do anything rash.”

Stella sighs, hangs up the phone and goes to bang her head on the wall some more.

 

“Damn,” Darcy says at lunch through a mouth of Gogurt. She sounds half-admiring, half-pitying. “You’ve had a hell of a week, girl.”

Stella pokes at her leftover lasagna with more force than strictly necessary, trying not to think about yesterday’s vomit. “What, you mean because there’s now cardboard where my window used to be?” she asks sweetly. 

“Exactly,” Darcy says, hearing and ignoring the sarcasm like a champ. “What you need is a girls’ night. Why don’t you guys all come over to my place tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Stella says, considering. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” Darcy begs. “It’ll be fun. We can do exfoliating masks and paint each other’s nails. There might even be martinis. Plus, you still haven’t told us all the dirty details of your date. That’ll be the main event. Whadya say?”

“Alright,” Stella agrees and Jane nods, too.

“I can’t,” Wanda says apologetically. “Pietro’s taking me to the OBGYN tomorrow and the appointment’s early. But I hope you guys have fun.”

“Oh we will,” Darcy says and from the tone of her voice, Stella can’t help but believe her. Maybe this is what she really needs, just a night away from all this crap. Plus, who knows, maybe she’ll get up her courage and come clean tonight.

 

After school, Stella takes a fucking nap, because she wants one and she deserves one. She wakes up to a voicemail and a text message from Tony. She checks the text first, but it only says, ‘Sorry, a kid got ahold of my phone and redialed,’ which doesn’t make sense until she listens to the voicemail, which is a solid two minutes of a toddler making train noises. They’re pretty good train noises, as far as it goes, chugging and whoo-whooing and even a few, ‘All aboards!’ Stella listens to it a few times while she catches up on her painting, and it’s good. Maybe it’s silly and she doesn’t even know this kid, doubts Tony even knows him, but the voicemail reminds Stella the reason she became a teacher. In spite of the last few days, she really does love kids, loves to see (and hear) them having fun and playing. It makes her smile and gives her the strength she knows she’s going to need Monday to go back to work.

At about seven, Stella cleans up her paints, set her painting on the rack to dry, and takes a shower. After, she puts on light makeup and doesn’t bother to style her hair, just brushes it and lets it hang down onto her shoulders, because Darcy had mentioned mud masks and other messy things. 

It’s a twenty minute train ride then a ten minute walk to Darcy’s building. The last time Stella was here was the night she met Tony and she hadn’t stayed long. They haven’t had a girls’ night in since before school started almost two months ago and Stella’s really looking forward to it. She hasn’t been neglecting her friends, exactly, since she got a boyfriend, but it’ll definitely be good to get back to basics.

Darcy and Jane are already in their PJs drinking martinis when they buzz Stella up. Stella laughs, calls them lushes, and goes to put her bag in Darcy’s room. She changes into her own pajamas, a long sleeved blue tee and a red pair of flannel pants, both with polar bears on them. They’re not nearly as sexy as Darcy’s silky red shorts and tank, but they’re comfortable and that’s enough for Stella. After a moment’s consideration, she takes off her bra and puts it in the bag with her change of clothes. It’s not exactly comfortable, is the thing, and she usually doesn’t wear it at night. And since she’s going to be telling the girls the truth, anyway, there’s no sense in pretending tonight.

She takes a deep, calming breath before she goes back into the living room, but neither of the girls notices anything different right away, probably because they’re deep in conversation (about sex, what else?) and Stella’s breast forms are teeny, tiny As to match her frame, anyway. Actually, Darcy doesn’t even look up at Stella at first and Jane just throws her a smile and pats the couch cushion next to her. Stella sits, content for now to listen to the rest of Darcy’s story about why she thinks anal sex gets a bad rep.

“It’s just, like, why not, you know?” she finishes and Jane shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she says after a moment’s thought. “It’s just always so awkward the morning after.”

Stella snorts a laugh and they both look at her.

“Okay, then, Virgin Mary,” Darcy teases. “How do you feel about anal?”

“I’m a strictly anal kind of girl,” Stella says, and they both laugh, thinking she’s kidding. It’s true, as a matter of fact, but it’s also the perfect way to bring up what she needs to say. “Um, actually, there’s something I need to tell you guys.”

Jane stops laughing immediately. “Oh my God,” she says, looking half-concerned. “Did you finally have sex?”

“Oh, no, not that,” Stella assures them quickly. “Trust me, you’ll be the first ones to know if I do. No, it’s something else.”

“In that case,” Darcy says, climbing to her feet and grabbing for Jane’s empty martini glass, “It can wait until after refills. You want one?”

Stella considers, actually considers the question. Usually when she’s asked, she just says no right away, but tonight, she hesitates. Because, the thing is, she doesn’t drink. She doesn’t drink, and she doesn’t have sex, either, and she doesn’t tell her friends the truth about something really important. This whole thing with Tony has gotten her thinking, though. Why not, really? Why not change all of those things? Sure, that bad experience in college had been exceptionally terrible, but she was young then, and stupid about things like drinking. There’s no reason she can’t make changes in her life and there’s no reason she can’t have one or two drinks tonight. It’s not going to kill her and maybe it’ll loosen her up. And then, if tonight works out, she can actually drink the wine next time she and Tony go to dinner and that’ll be something special, too.

“Actually, yeah,” she says at last. “I’ll take one.”

“Excellent,” Darcy says, putting both glasses in one hand so she can give Stella a slightly-tipsy high-five. 

The tentative sip Stella takes of her drink a few minutes later isn’t all that bad, not surprising, considering Darcy sometimes moonlights as a bartender in a trendy club uptown. Stella can still taste the alcohol, though, and the girls both laugh at the face she makes after the very first swallow. 

“What do you think?” Darcy asks, leaning around Jane to see Stella’s face better.

“It’s okay,” Stella teases. “I’ve had better.”

“You have not, you liar!” Darcy says. “Jane, smack her for me.”

“I’m just not gonna do that,” Jane says, rolling her eyes. “You’re going to have to fight your own battles on this one.”

That reminds Darcy of a story about the bitchy mother that had threatened to punch her last week when Darcy wouldn’t let her in to see Principal Coulson right away. Her impression of the woman has Stella and Jane in hysterics and Stella nearly drops martini glass twice.

“Like it’s my fault she didn’t make an appointment,” Darcy says bitterly at the end of her story. “Bitch, please. And anyway, I could have taken her.”

“You are pretty plucky,” Jane says, sizing Darcy up like she’s a prizefighter. “How big was this lady?”

Darcy shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says, exasperated. “About your height, maybe. But that doesn’t matter. I mean, look at Stella. She’s tiny, but don’t you remember that time she took on that mugger over the summer?”

“Oh yeah,” Jane says, clearly just remembering the incident. “That was pretty cool, huh?”

Stella blushes at the open admiration on the other girls’ faces. “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she insists. It really wasn’t. They’d been at the mall drinking smoothies and a man had tried to snatch Jane’s purse and tried to run. Stella hadn’t even done anything, just tripped him and watched him fall flat on his face. She hadn’t tackled him or anything, though she might have if her first move hadn’t worked. 

“You would have done the same thing. I just got there first. Besides, I had a lot of practice in high school. Got beat up a lot.”

“You always say that,” Jane says curiously. “But it just doesn’t make sense to me. Why would anyone beat you up?”

This is it, Stella thinks. She finishes the last swallow in her glass and sets it down out of the way. She considers her answer carefully. “They didn’t like queers,” she says after a moment.

They both look at her strangely. “But you’re totally not,” Darcy insists. “You’re like way girly. And you like guys. There’s nothing queer about you.”

“No, there is,” Stella says, looking at her hands. “I, uh, I’m transgender. I’ve got a, that is, I have a male’s body.”

There’s dead silence for long enough that Stella looks up from her hands. Both Darcy and Jane are staring at her like she’s crazy. Darcy’s forgotten she’s holding a half-full glass in her hand and the martini is slowly spilling out onto the carpet. 

“Bullshit,” Darcy says at last and Jane looks like she agrees.

“It’s true,” Stella says. The longer they stare at her like that, the more she thinks she might start to cry. She can feel the lump welling up in her throat and her eyes are starting to sting. “I, I should have told you guys years ago.”

“So you’ve got, you know…” Jane says, waving a hand at Stella’s body in general. 

Stella does know what she means and she nods. She’s not sure what she’s expecting to happen after that admission, but it certainly isn’t for Darcy to tackle her onto the ground and start to pull down her pants.

“Hey,” Stella says when she gets her breath back. She squirms and tries to push Darcy away. “Hey, stop it!”

“I wanna see it,” Darcy huffs, trying to keep Stella down and get her out of her pants at the same time. “Jane, hold her down! I’ve gotta see this thing!”

“Stop!” Stella says, trying and failing to bat her away. She’s relieved when Jane doesn’t rush to Darcy’s aide, but Jane also doesn’t pull her off Stella, just watches in fascinated horror, like the kids did at the vomit yesterday morning. She manages to catch Darcy’s wrists in her hands and keep them from dragging her pants any further down her hips. 

“Lemme see!” Darcy begs when she realizes she’s not going to be able to force the issue. “You’ve kept this penis from us for years, Stella. You’ve gotta let me see it, now! Come on, you saw my vag.”

She has, as a matter of fact, seen Darcy’s girl parts, and the experience wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. “You did that on your own,” Stella insists. “I didn’t ask for it, it just happened.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Darcy insists, trying again to break Stella’s grip. “You owe me.”

“Let her up, Darce,” Jane says, cutting in at last. “Not everyone’s an exhibitionist like you.” To Stella, she adds, “I can’t believe how much sense this makes.”

“What do you mean ‘makes sense’?” Darcy asks, reluctantly rolling off Stella, who pulls her pants back up to where they should be right quick and sits up. “One of our girlfriends has a peen. How does that make any sense at all?”

“Just think about it,” Jane says, starting to tick things off on her fingers. “She never has period horror stories. She never gets naked around us. She told us earlier she was all anal all the time, except for the fact that she doesn’t have sex with men face to face. Plus, she’s super careful about her make-up and clothes. Okay, so all those things could be explained away, but it does sort of make sense, right?”

“I guess,” Darcy says, clearly still sulky that she’s not going to get to see Stella naked. To Stella she says, “I can’t believe you lied to us!”

Stella hangs her head. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry. I just never had to tell anyone before, you know? Not since I started passing.”

“Are you getting a sex change?” Jane asks. 

They’re both taking it extremely well, apart from the tackling thing, and Stella feels so much relief about that, about not having to lie anymore or omit the truth. These are her friends, she should have known they wouldn’t care, not really.

“Nah,” she says. “I like my body how it is. I don’t need, you know, girl parts to feel like a woman.”

“Yeah, but what about guys?” Darcy asks. “Most of them expect, you know, tits and a vag.”

“I know,” Stella says quietly. She doesn’t need the reminder. “That’s why I don’t have sex with them. I’m waiting for the right guy, the one who won’t mind if and love me, anyway.”

“What about Tony Stark?” Jane asks, and Stella forgives how defensive she sounds because she knows all about Jane’s silly crush on Tony. “Does he know?”

“Not yet,” Stella says and pushes down the wave of guilt at the admission. 

“Stel!” Darcy says, slapping her Stella’s thigh lightly. “You have to tell him! You can’t just keep that from the guy you’re dating!”

“I know, I know,” Stella says, because apparently she didn’t feel bad enough about it before. “I’m going to tell him soon. I just wanted him to get to know me before I told him. He’s, he’s special, you know? I really like him and I didn’t want him to just dump me right away as soon as I told him, like he might have done if I told him right away.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jane says, nodding like this seems reasonable. “But it’s been kind of a while, hasn’t it? You guys have been talking for almost a month.”

“Less than that,” Stella corrects. “It’s only been a few weeks and we’ve only really been on two dates. When we go out for lunch next week, I’m going to feel him out and if it looks like he’s going to be at least a little bit open to the idea, I’ll invite him over and tell him. That’s not the kind of thing you can just tell someone in the middle of a meal in a restaurant.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Jane says. “But you need to tell him, Stella. It’s not right, keeping it from him.”

Darcy volunteers to get them more drinks, then, and after that they put on a movie, some silly chick flick that Stella doesn’t really follow. Jane and Darcy both make jokes and ask questions the rest of the night, but Stella doesn’t mind answering them. She isn’t sure, now, why she waited so long to tell them, except that she’s obviously a coward. These girls are great, though, real friends. And they’re right: she’s got to tell Tony and soon. Next week, she decides, she’ll do it then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s vomit. Like all over the place. Sorry *shrugs*
> 
> *here's the edited warning: Darcy tries to pants Stella when she finds out the truth about her. I suppose that is kind of a dick thing to do and I won't make excuses for her, but she didn't mean any harm, honest.*


End file.
